This is Lacy Park, which is an easy walk from where I grew up. It is so sweetly familiar. Memories of Lacy Park are sprinkled through my life. Our beagle. Babysitters. Y day camp. Fourth of July. Watergate. The rains of 1970. Kisses. Tutoring. Softball. Frisbee. A company picnic. A class reunion. My sons learning to ride bicycles. The summer I was off work.
Nostalgia is an ailment that mainly affects older people, but I don't think anyone is immune. Even pretty small children probably long to go back to a time when they didn't understand the news, when they believed in fairies and Santa Claus, and when they fit comfortably and safely in their parents' arms.
Dear Barbara,
ReplyDeleteAfter the journey and the settling down I just found time to catch up with my dear blogger friends. I firstly saw your 2 latest beautiful paintings and thought to myself 'such warm and full of light colours'. I had no idea...
My deepest and sincere condolences for your loss. I'm sure that our beloved ones are always around. Maybe we can see them, but they are there. If not anything else, they always stay in our hearts.
Big hugs.
Thank you Konstantina
DeleteLovely to see your painting Barbara , finally memories remain with us and we shall be grateful for that.
ReplyDeleteThank you Padmaja
DeleteWhat a touching post Barbara. A profound first sentence. Thinking of you....
ReplyDeleteThank you Sherry
DeleteUntil I read the previous comments, I didn't realize something was sad and I don't know what it is, but that first sentence is incredibly relatable. Beautiful prose from one who shares memories of this park. I still go there.
ReplyDeleteAnd we learned to whistle there... taxi-style, thinking that we wouldn't bother anyone while we practiced on the spacious lawns beneath the beautiful trees. AWK
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