I close my eyes and dip my cup into the bowl of overflowing memories. Faces of children, parents, uncles and aunts come to my mind; events and objects—picnics, merry-go-rounds, donkey rides, and Sunday school trips bring a smile to my face; snippets of remembrances, good and bad, float by as if in a dream. Sadness comes with thoughts of illness and deaths in the family; joy pours in with remembered holidays away and visits from relatives and friends.
Into my cup, pours a memory of a young 24-year-old woman, eyes wide open with expectation and hope as she rides, all alone, on a train to Portsmouth. She wonders if she will meet her true love on the big ocean liner, as she’d seen in romantic movies. She was leaving England and immigrating to Canada; a new world was opening up to her and she was so ready for what was to come.
I think of that young girl now. It’s almost 50 years ago and a lot has happened in the intervening years. Each day since then is another yesterday and another memory in the overflowing bowl. I have no regrets about coming to Canada—as soon as I landed I knew I belonged. Memories are still being made and, tomorrow, these memories will be yesterdays; they’ll join with all the others and become inspiration for short stories and fireside conversations.
© Judith Lawrence
Read and listen to Judith’s monthly meditation on her website at www.judithlawrence.ca
Visit Judith at www.authorsden.com/judithlawrence
1 comment:
So lovely, and wistfully poetic, Judith.
As an immigrant from the UK I have a little identification with you there, also.
Blessings,
Peter.
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