your life? Do you ever think back to any of the views that once
met your gaze when you looked out of the window? I'm trying to
recall when the 'view from the window' began to mean anything
to me, and I think it was when we moved from my present
recall when the 'view from the window' began to mean anything
to me, and I think it was when we moved from my present
abode, before returning just over four years later.
At one time, the view beyond the window never held any
particular significance to me, 'til one evening in May of 1983,
when I sat and watched the rays of the sun fade over the horizon
from my bedroom, and I realized that I would soon never be able
to enjoy that scene again. Sure, I'd be bound to see the sunlight
fade if I wanted, but it would never be from that window or of
that specific scene. As it had been my view for 11 of my 24
years, it somehow made me feel sad.
that specific scene. As it had been my view for 11 of my 24
years, it somehow made me feel sad.
When we returned to the house, I was glad to resume my
acquaintanceship with the view, which was unchanged ('though
that wasn't to last) and everything seemed right with the world
once more. In our new house, I'd almost resented the new view,
merely for not being the old one - even 'though that had never
meant anything to me until I realized I was about to lose it.
I think, when we're young, the view from the window has
no special significance to us; we look out of our windows to see
what's happening (who's out there, is it raining, is it snowing), but
we pay no particular attention to what the scene is comprised of -
the details, in effect. Over time however, without us realizing it,
the view comes to represent a period in our lives of which
Today, I now often find myself missing the view I once
resented, and pining for the time in my life which it conjures
up in my mind. Strange or what? In fact, I find myself missing
every view that I remember (which is all of them) and I wonder
how I'd cope if I were to suddenly find myself in the unwanted
position of having to relocate yet again. At my age, I don't
think I'd be able to adapt to new surroundings.
I've previously related on this blog how, when I learned
that the field across the road from one of my old houses was
about to be built on, I arranged with the tenant to photograph
the scene for posterity. I now have a record of the view outside
every house I've ever lived in, either taken from the window
inside, or from the step or path just outside the front door.
It may seem strange to you, but I find it comforting to be
able to revisit my past in this way, and immerse myself in the
familiar surroundings of my earlier years. How about the rest
of you? Do you ever think back to the environs beyond your
windows that you once knew, or are you too busy living in the
here and now to ever think about how things used to be?
If you have any particular reminiscences of the places of
your youth, and any you miss in particular, feel free to relate
precisely what they mean (or once meant) to you. Does your
memory, unbidden, ever return to the scenes of earlier abodes,
and do shades of yesteryear haunt your dreams with images of
happier times, taunting you with what used to be, but can
never be again - except in memory? Do tell.
If you have any particular reminiscences of the places of
your youth, and any you miss in particular, feel free to relate
precisely what they mean (or once meant) to you. Does your
memory, unbidden, ever return to the scenes of earlier abodes,
and do shades of yesteryear haunt your dreams with images of
happier times, taunting you with what used to be, but can
never be again - except in memory? Do tell.
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