Remembering Past Springs

for Mary In English when we miss someone, we say, 'You were on my mind, ' as if you stood upon a platform called MIND and witnessed my thoughts in the instant of their birth, straight through their existence, until new thoughts, equally yours, crowd them out. Such is the destiny of whatever cliche or metaphor we choose. Other times it may be a deceased loved one who occupies our minds. So a brother and a sister, even in different cities, will feel the almost living presence of their mother. Perhaps both hear an echo of her chiding wisdom, or they recall in their separate realities a flash of humor that made everyone at the table laugh. Or a long ago vacation in June suddenly returns when you see a stand of young aspen trees, and there is Mom, trying to hide from the camera. Memory evokes her presence, and it is a presence that still lives inside us. Isn't it remarkable that such miracles still occur? Still I wonder, how can our small memories, even when we combine them, follow after the fleet progress of Time which keeps moving relentlessly while we stop and look backward into those past joys, when both Mom and Dad were with us, and reality was one and whole. Even as I say that thought Time has taken its huge steps away from human love. And once again we must catch up or be lost alone in a separate reality. But recall the platform of MIND. It is a kind of playfulness with reality scaled down to the dimensions of a playmate. And you can laugh or cry or both, because real things - trees, cars, picnic baskets, keys, books, baseballs, knitting- all of them become infinitely malleable and fit in whatever niche of your mind welcomes them. And then, then the heaviness of events lightens, even dissolves in a remembrance of joy. Isn't it remarkable that such miracles occur?