Mama's Magnolias
Sensing memories
I was born a wanderer and have had the good fortune to travel to more places on this precious globe than I can list. Some visits remain vivid memories, as fresh as if they had happened yesterday. Others have faded like old photos, barely discernible if not completely blank.
How enigmatic the mind’s ability to sift through and relinquish its history.
On occasion, though, we find ourselves in a location or mindset where decades vanish in an instant and the past suddenly becomes the present.
In my experience, this proximity is most likely when we revisit childhood and feel close to “home.”
I beg your indulgence to share a recent example here with this caring community. We mostly try to focus this newsletter on issues of great urgency and import, but I do believe that being “steady” also means finding space to revel in the simple moments that round out our lives.
A short while back, I found myself on a favorite street in Austin, Texas, the city I now call home. I have been coming to these blocks to stroll for over a year, encouraged by my doctor to increase my daily exercise. My ability to walk the street’s several blocks has become a yardstick by which I measure my progress.
What makes this street even more meaningful to me is that it is bedecked with magnolia trees — planted with an impressive precision of spatial distancing.
Magnolia trees were a favorite of my dear mother. She found them inspiring, comforting, and mesmerizing. I can’t walk by one and not think of her — a connection of souls across time and space unbroken despite her passing long ago.
I call the street “Magnolia Lane,” but you won’t find it on any map. It has an official name that is much less fun.
I was eager to head to the “Lane” after a recent light rain. And sure enough I found a breathtaking tableau. It felt as if the moisture had coaxed the magnolia buds into a resplendent flowering.
Even more pronounced than the beautiful sight was the smell. The distinct fragrance filled me. I breathed deeply and held it. Again and again. I remember my mother. I see her face and feel her smile. A wave of love overflows the reservoirs of my heart.
I can’t help but think that perhaps smell is the most powerful sense for summoning memories.
I returned to Magnolia Lane a short while later. The height of the bloom was over. Life passes. Beauty fades. But it can still be savored and recalled. And new beauty can grow. Spring teaches us that each year.
I think this season means more as we age. How many more flowers will we smell, see, and remember? So let us grab hold of the present and make it count.
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I appreciate your post so much. Recently, as a grief facilitator for teens in Phoenix, we set up 6-7 bags with various household smells in them to see if it would conjure up memories of the teens’ parents that had died. It is so true, what you said. Taking in the beautiful and ordinary smells like coffee grounds, laundry detergent, brownies and such gave us a wealth of memories. It was hard to end the session that evening because the kids were so talkative and bursting to share happy memories of their moms and dads. So precious, this time. Thank you for your “steady” thoughts. It’s grounding.
Lilacs. The smell of lilacs in May brings me back to memories of childhood. Thank you for this reminder to stop and smell the beauty.