A series of essays....
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MEMORIES CREATED ON A BEACH IN CONNEMARA, IRELAND~ SAND~ROCK~BRIGHT GREEN MOSS WITH THE SOUND OF THE WAVES CRASHING AROUND US! |
....as seen through my eyes!
“A friend once told me that when someone we know dies, we're actually mourning the death of the part of ourselves that only they knew.”
Ryan Prior—Screenwriter
By: Jacqueline E Hughes
Aunt Maxine had no children of her own. She seemed to have lived a rather full and exciting life with her husband, Orris. I remember the first time Dan and I went to visit them in their cozy stone house near the edge of town where they had lived throughout Dan’s memories of them while growing-up. It was like entering a small museum with closed, glass cases filled with exotic memorabilia of their time spent traveling around the world together. Every object I observed had an amazing story surrounding it and, if you asked Aunt Maxine to talk about a particular item, you would be fascinated and entertained for hours on end.
Now that I am older and have logged my own adventures in such exotic places as France, Germany, Ireland, the UK, and Italy, with Dan and our girls, I recognize that personal trend of wanting to bring even a small portion of these places home in order to relive our experiences there. Whereas Aunt Maxine’s treasures were mainly museum pieces kept under glass, box upon box of colored slides, a pink conch shell from their honeymoon in Florida filled with sandy beach memories of love and romance, mine consist of photos, lasting friendships, and lots and lots of rocks!
I’ve been writing about my adventures since September of 2013 at my Blog site, Moving On..., and have over 350 essays and poems to show for it. My Blogs are dotted with a picture or two or three expressing the visual portion of each trip. For me, it’s a wonderful way of reliving every precious moment spent somewhere else in this grand world we live in.
With a cocktail in hand, I envision Aunt Maxine explaining away each slide picture to their various dinner guests while softened versions of the Ponte Vecchio, Duomo, and cobblestoned streets of Florence clicked on-off-on again across the virgin white surface of the pull-up screen. Uncle Orris is making sure that the circular projector stays filled with new slide cartridges and gently laughs each time a person, building, sculpture, or street scene is projected upside down. He immediately corrects its position by deftly flipping the slide over. The dust particles living in the cone of light projected from machine to screen subtly adjust to the corrected version.
Maxine was very proud of her self-acquired knowledge of travel expertise. And, considering not many people were fortunate enough to take yearly trips somewhere in the world, I knew that she and Orris used their time together traveling—wisely. I was certain that the many stories Orris brought back regarding his military service while stationed in Europe during WWII provided the niggling itch and grand passion that she needed to pack her suitcases and go abroad herself. Armed with beautiful slides and detailed stories, they could have held amazing travelogues for various groups after each trip taken.
When Dan and I were young, newly married, and packing for our honeymoon in Aruba, I asked Aunt Maxine for some packing advice. She was my shining example of all things worldly and was always there for anyone wishing to tap into the life she and Orris forged from various connections on planes, trains, ships, and automobiles while moving around the globe. She was delighted to give me a little travel tutelage and lots of worthwhile advice.
I learned how to expertly pack a man’s sport coat keeping it unwrinkled and pristine until it could be hung-up at our destination. The trick of stuffing shoes with rolled socks or small objects would save needed room for other items. She instructed me as to the importance of maintaining a color theme with my clothes: I should choose either black, navy blue, or brown so that I would pack less by incorporating mix-and-match articles and be able to create more outfits for the trip. Maxine introduced me to the art of rolling clothes which is quite popular among travelers, today. She had perfected this technique long ago and I was the lucky recipient of her expert style and practical knowledge.
Along with packing clothes, I was instructed as to the best way to bring precious souvenirs back home with little to no damage. As mentioned before, her mementos of intricate glass and hand-painted porcelain figurines, clay pipes, and bronze statues all required unique handling. Just like the photo slides, each piece brought back home represented a personal memory of a time and place that brushed their lives with its own unique colors and flavors.
Dan and I rarely take the fancy route when it comes to bringing home mementoes from the places we visit, unless you count the allotted amount of unopened bottles of wine we bring back in our checked baggage. Always a bit dangerous but, so far, so good! For me, bringing home a geological specimen of the landscape specific to an area means that rock or stone has the ability to channel the vibrations of its origins through me as it’s being pressed into the palm of my hand. The rock may represent climbing up to the peak of a mountain in Connemara; walking along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea or the Côte d'Azur in France; pocketing a small, jagged piece of black rock high in the Pyrenees to a smooth, age-worn stone found along the dangerously narrow roads of the Italian Alps; and back down to sea level with a gray and white beauty found in the shallow shoreline of Loch Lomond in the Scottish Highlands.
When Aunt Maxine passed away in 2009, at the age of ninety-one, nine years after Uncle Orris, it was knowing what a full life they had together that made her passing more tolerable. Their memories served as brilliant souvenirs that documented a great love story. With each picture taken or hand-painted figurine purchased, these pieces fit together within the grand puzzle and help to breathe more life into our precious recollections.
You see, sometimes we do get to choose our own paths in life. When one flame flickers and fizzles out, we pick up the pieces left behind from this giant puzzle of life and clutch them to our hearts like vibrant souvenirs, poignant memories of the people and places we will cherish many lifetimes over.
It’s easy to see how, “...when someone we know dies, we’re actually mourning the death of the part of ourselves that only they knew.” I do mourn the passing of that part of my life that only Maxine shared and grieve its earthly passing. But, I knew that I would always retain the souvenirs of our unique relationship!
Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes
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