Home Memories

Dear J-

For a while there I was convinced I needed to get a heavier outer shirt and wear a lighter inner shirt: with the temperature swing getting bigger (still about the same in the mornings, but significantly warmer in the afternoons) I thought that was the way to go. Now, though, I’m not so sure; there’s plenty of reasons to think summer has arrived in full force including the warmth of the mornings, relatively speaking: it would be difficult to go back to long sleeves now. Hello. How are you. The weather is fine here. I’d throw in a throwaway line about how I miss everyone at home but home is where the family is which is here. That’s not deliberately backwards.

When you grow up you get attached to the notion of home being a place, a physical stop at the end of your day. Let’s go home. I wish I were at home. It’s the punctuation at the end of your sentence, the place you return unless you’re on some massive trip involving distance and time (speaking of which we should … but more anon). I wonder sometimes whether that’s a product of nature or nurture, and whether being an accomplished traveler is something you learn or are taught. Home was a place but it got sold and now what stands out are specific memories — how the door to the living room and the back would come together at an angle just so, or how people would fall into the basement until we started locking the door.

They say that experiences are more memorable than things; I’ve been trying to take more photographs again, having had some inspiration from when I carried a camera everywhere every chance I got. When I bought my mom her first camera (Minolta Freedom Zoom Explorer, 28-90mm zoom) she immediately turned on the date imprinting feature which I thought was strange until I started cataloging my own, and wow, does it make a difference to know where and when these things were taken; the non-visual context and tagging means the photographs I share are not just for sharing, they’re for remembering too. Remember when … haha.



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