There tucked away in my hand-made life are the prayers of healing, the notes to remind myself of things I cannot forget. I have this see through life, it is like a heart on a sleeve, it does not hide, nor does it jump up and down flashing a big bright label. Simple days make up the pattern that show me the paradise within. Dried roses without their thorns, moments passed, leaving a fragrance that I can recall and smile upon, and heed not the prick of the thorn upon tender skin. Within each of us their is a treasure, worthy of holding up and placing on the altar of life. Is your altar transportable?
Being back in my childhood home my thoughts turn around family, the life I had when I lived here. The familiar objects tell me stories I do not hear in France, nor do they share the same meaning. I look at things I have seen a million times before, and memories flood my head taking me to places where in France the river does not run.
Where does the damn burst in you, where does the flood gate open? Have you ever been carried away by a rush of memories, causing you to forget where you are? Reminding you who you have become?
Amazing what home can do isn't it?
Posted by: Shannon (Sentimental) | 23 June 2006 at 09:55 PM
I remember years ago attending the dedication of a convent for cloistered nuns who had recently come to our area. At the dedication Mass, there was a basket we could place prayer requests in. In a totally unguarded moment I found myself rising up, going to the table and writing a note requesting prayers for someone who had harmed me horribly years before. At that moment, as memory flooded through me, I felt all the fear and pain flow out literally through my finger tips, all to be replaced by forgivenenss. The dam burst over my soul and healing truly started.
Posted by: AnnieElf | 23 June 2006 at 10:27 PM
corey,
Stepping into your mothers kitchen, the memory i have,, I was there for a 4-H cooking class. Your mother had merv griffen on the tv. On this day we were making cake batter and putting them into cupcakes pan, your mother was watching us put the batter in the pans without the cups. After we saw what we did, she said what are you going to do now? We said eat the raw batter. She said go ahead, but if you get sick it is not my fault. To this day, Dolores and I still talk about this. What a bunch of silly girls we were.
Memories from the Amaro Kitchen..
Posted by: shelley | 23 June 2006 at 11:31 PM
oh corey, reading this made a dam burst in my heart and tears rush out... not many other people can evoke this feeling in me. it's a tumultuous time and i am aching for the peace and stability of my childhood home. there is no other place for me to go to find this but here. thank you for bringing me home.
Posted by: snowsparkle | 23 June 2006 at 11:39 PM
I had to sit and think about this for a moment...I think have been so many moments in my life when the flood gates have furiously opened.
I remember, coming home to England as a little girl after years away and feeling 'home' for the first time in years.
Thinking of you at this time.
p.s. I love the previous comment- memories from the Amaro kitchen!
Posted by: madeleine | 24 June 2006 at 01:39 AM
It's nice following you around your childhood home thru your blog.
Posted by: Cat | 24 June 2006 at 01:42 AM
i have had a tiny taste of what that is like. i can not imagine it full blown as you explain here in your lovely words. truly complex.truly lovely and sad and happy all wrapped into one package called corey!
Posted by: susan@artstream | 24 June 2006 at 01:14 PM
This is very insightful and meaningful for me. My son will be coming home again to visit after a year in Asia.
Yes I still suffer from separation anxiety daily!
I truly savor your words and thoughts and this one especially is so close to home for me............I love still going to my childhood home it is a safe haven from all the storms of life.
Blessings to you darling friend!
I love you Sugar Plum!
Blessings!
Love Jeanne
X0X0
Posted by: Jeanne | 24 June 2006 at 02:04 PM
thank you for taking us along on your journey...it's always nice to remember where our humble beginnings began!
hugs to you,
mary ann :)
Posted by: mary ann | 24 June 2006 at 03:02 PM
Ah! Fabulous blog. I will be a frequent visitor. Interestingly, I am N. American and married an Englishman who is trying to convince me to move to his country. Now England IS NOT France, non? I love the blog and can't wait to explore!
Posted by: J. | 24 June 2006 at 04:09 PM
What an experience! You wrote this so well. I hope my children feel as you do, when they return home as adults.
a.
Posted by: andrea edwards | 25 June 2006 at 04:08 PM
Absolutely...memories that make me forget where I'm and remind me what I've become.
bjs
paula
Posted by: simple me | 26 June 2006 at 03:56 PM
Absolutely love your last paragraph, so poetic. I bet you feel like a little girl again :)
Posted by: cruststation | 27 June 2006 at 12:10 PM
ah, yes, I love the flooding of memories from a familiar place. I wish I could go to my grandmother's house one more time for that treat.
Posted by: Kim Carney | 29 June 2006 at 08:16 AM