Sunday morning is usually an even quieter time for me. It seems that memories from the past usually flood in on Sunday mornings, all triggered by a mere word or sound. It seems most of these sense-related bits are from childhood when everything is soaked in and forged into memory.
For instance, there are Beatles’ songs that come on and I’m six years old again, living at the old house on Wilawanna Road. The music is coming from our hi-fi console with sliding panels on top that expose the record player on one side and the other, the radio and controls. The light wafting through the curtains over the large, old windows is from the spring and brightens the living room and its weathered floral wallpaper. It’s a very secure feeling, the kind you hold onto from childhood.
On this Sunday morning, it’s about 8 degrees outside (much warmer than yesterday’s -18 ) but it’s a little warmer when I hear this…
The painting from the top is a piece that was used as the cover for a CD by a northern Virginia based band, The Reserves, titled Where Have All The Dreamers Gone.
Redtree Times 