Traveling Memory Lane

When a dragonfly is more than a dragonfly

As I close down a house we’ve owned for thirty-three years, I’m forced to declutter my life. I feel as if I’m wandering blindly in a maze blanketed with rabbit holes. Some are deep, some shallow. I stumble into many of them, and leap willingly into others. They take me beyond time to a place where I can see my life unfolding. I don’t just dive into my past as a spectator. I relive it, tasting each and every moment.

No old coffee cup is just a coffee cup. Each one has attached to it a chunk of my personal history, and touching it ignites emotions good, bad, and ugly. For example, I have one from Tim Horton’s covered in Canadian images; beavers, moose, and of Canadian Geese. I remember how it made me smile when I found it in the store. It’s so over-the-top Timmies that I had to buy it. I gave it to my nephew, and he left it behind when he moved on. I think about him everyday as he travels about the country and I miss him, his ready smile and goofy jokes. I love my over-the-top, corny-Canadian, Tim Horton’s mug, my nephew, and my memories. And that’s just one coffee cup. I have many.

Sheesh.

It’s hard to clear out a house to put it up for sale after having lived in it for so many years. In that time so much has happened to me, my family, and the world around us. I’m grateful that most of my memories are good ones, but not all.

A pink blanket with the breast cancer logo rests on the sofa. It reminds me of the time I faced death’s door. I’m thankful I survived, of course, but the paralyzing terror I felt during that time of uncertainty lives within me, pushed down deep into my bones where it has shaped me in unexpected ways that both haunt and inspire me.

The pink blanket connects me to that time. The bitter taste of fear rises within me as I touch it and for a moment I struggle to breathe. Reminding myself that I am safe now, I pull it around my shoulders and remember the friend who made it for me. That leads me to remembering how thankful I am to all the people who helped me through that rough patch in my life, and my deep gratitude washes away the bitter memory and replaces it with love.

Sheesh.

That’s just one coffee cup and one blanket. Will I ever get through a whole house? I hope someone buys it soon.

And then there be dragonflies. Lots and lots of dragonflies. My husband and I used to sit on the back deck and watch them swooping around our yard. They are beyond beautiful with their incandescent wings and displays of color. They are magical. Over the years we collected dragonfly stuff. There’s a dragonfly on the stone step to the back deck that one of my students gave me, another one is on the door knocker the neighbours gave us, and I have pottery with dragonflies on it that my daughter made for me with her own hands. But what caught my breath yesterday was the dragonfly on the gate to our deck.

A lump forms in my throat as I write this. My husband cut out the dragonfly shape on plywood and turned it into a door. He spent a lot of time making it for me and every time I look at it I think of him, and the love he put into the artwork warms my heart. I am so lucky to know such love. The paint on the gate is flaking off, and the wood is worn and broken in one place, but the dragonfly image is as brilliant as the first day I saw it. When the sun shines through image, it casts a dragonfly shadow on the deck. Everything about it elicits joy and love in my heart.

Sheesh.

I can sell the house, I tell myself. But can I sell the dragonfly door with it? I swallow. They are connected. I have to let them go. And so I take photos and lock the memories deep inside my heart. I am so grateful for dragonflies, family, friends, and my life.

Sheesh.

This is hard—but hard in a good, good way.

And that’s my Monday musings for this week.

See you between the lines, my friends,

P.S. I want to thank all of you who commented both here and in emails on my last Monday post about moving. I really appreciate that you shared your experiences of plot twists that landed in your lives. Your comments made me feel more connected to you.

P.S.S. I’d love to hear from you about things that bring back memories for you.

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