A MOMENT IN TIME, NOT FAR REMOVED...

Chances are, dear readers, that you've moved house

at least once in your life.  Do you remember the night before

flitting, and the day you arrived at your new home?  I do - in

all my houses but the second one.  I no longer actually recall

leaving the house, but I do very much remember arriving

at our new home, the third one.  Why do I ask?

For quite a while after moving into a new house, one's

repertoire of memories is still very much anchored in the

previous one.  On your first day in a new home, if you wish to

recall anything that happened more than a day ago, your recol-

lection of any event is set in the time of your former home, for

however long you happened to be there.  Was it five years -

ten?  Then most of your immediate stock of memories is

rooted in your old house, not your new one.

What am I on about you may be wondering?  Well, I

sort of feel that, until you can cast your mind back any sig-

nificant amount of time and it's a memory of something that

occurred in your current residence, then it's almost as if you're

still living in your old one.  You haven't yet fully 'acclimatised'

to the change.  I'm perhaps overstating the case to make the

point, but it's not until the balance of memories of both

houses is at least equal that you've fully settled in.

What I'm trying to suggest is that, when the majority

of your recollections are based in a different location, in

an unconscious sort of way you're still living there.  It's a bit

like your partner dying (or you getting divorced) and you re-

marrying soon after.  The day after your wedding, you can't

think of your spouse beyond that point without it being your

previous one.  It takes a while to build up a new stock of

memories so that when you think back any length of

time, your new spouse is part of the picture.

Okay, I'm stating the obvious in order to prepare

you for the ground along which we're headed, which is

this.  Sometimes, when I awake in the morning, because it's

the same room I slept in when I was 13, it's easy to imagine

that it's my first day in that room.  Meaning it's only the day

before that I was sleeping in my old room, making the time I

resided in my former home feel much more immediate and

recent than it is, which I find comforting.  It feels like my

time in that former home, and therefore my child-

hood, is no further away than the day before.

That feeling is fleeting and only lasts 'til I see the

old man in the mirror staring back at me, but for a brief

instant, a cherished moment in time is resurrected and it

feels like I'm not so far removed from it.  Trust me, that's

mainly a good feeling - until it passes and reality once

again reminds me of the cold, hard facts of life.

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