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Memories

Memories are potent. In the last few days, my mind drifts off to a place with such vivid memories, flashes really, of places from my past.

I have this image of driving east on Ives Dairy Road in North Miami beach, over I-95. It is night, the street lights are on. Their yellow glow cast a particular shadow on the road. The roads are fairly empty….it must be late. I remember this place, this moment. I must have driven over this place hundreds of times. Headed east to the ocean. I know the ocean is up there ahead of me.

 I had a recollection of Forsyth Park in Savannah, Georgia. The oak trees and their Spanish moss. Savannah has a muted sense, quietude and depth. It is a city of subtlety. Walking through the squares late in the afternoon, headed to a corner pub for a beer……

 Walking over the Ponte Vecchio in Florence. The bridge shops with their awnings pulled up. The beautiful silver pieces. The sun high in the sky. Feeling foreign and knowing I am out of my real world. The feeling that this bridge has been in place for hundreds of years, surviving WWII. How many people walked over these cobblestones? I can see the faces of people walking by me; they walk over this historical place day after day and may never pause.

Riding over the Cooper River Bridge from Mt. Pleasant sitting in the back seat with my newborn baby Cameron. So tiny in his car seat. He is slightly jaundiced and sleeping with his hands fisted up under his chin. My hands are swollen. I am tired. I have on a little cotton dress and my belly is smaller, for he is gone from me. I feel happy and sad. I look out the window and watch the girders of the bridge click by, the Cooper River shimmers far below and I can see the Folly beach lighthouse far in the distance. It is a clear day in February.

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