Ghosts of Memories

It’s hot where we live. 107 degrees at 5:00 p.m. And so we drove to the coast.

I love the ocean here in Oregon. I love the rocks jutting up and the waves crashing against them. I love the cool breezes and leaving the bedroom door open at night and needing an extra blanket toward dawn. It’s a treat.

And if I drove to any town along our state’s coastline I could enjoy the respite from the heat without thought. Pure enjoyment.

Instead I am haunted.

I never knew this town until my son and his family lived here for many years. It isn’t a remarkable town or a huge tourist draw unless you are a fisherman or escaping the inland heat. Still, I have spent many memorable times here – and all were with them.

I watched my grandson play ball and had a near-catastrophic ocean experience when we were caught by a rogue wave. I sat on front porch and took the dirt out of my granddaughter’s mouth. I have walked with my son along the river that feeds into the sea. I have gone to the grocery store with my daughter-in-law and picked her up from the school where she taught. I have smiled through dance recitals in the school and exhibitions at the fairgrounds.

The memories are here and my loved ones are gone.

Instead of joyously walking the town peopled with wonderful memories, I am yearning. I am lonely for the faces of those people who have been gone for years. When I think of them where they live now, they aren’t the same faces. The ones I miss here are gone forever. It leaves me a bit sad instead of nostalgic.

Strange.

xxoo

 

Comments

  1. I get it! It was such a strange feeling to be there. ❤️

    Like

  2. I can relate. This happens to me every time I go to some place where I had lived when much younger.

    Like

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