Shadow Of A Memory
As housesitters we stay in countless homes. In fact, in the last month alone, we stayed in six. Each of these houses tend to have their own unique character and decor, as such, some have nothing that’s familiar to me while others have memory triggers every way I turn.
The home we’re currently at is like that. There are the decorative federation-style bathroom tiles, the worn red kitchen scissors, the well-used individual oval pie trays, the blue and white china Dutch figurine carrying a yoke and buckets, and that’s just for starters.
The one thing that’s really got me thinking, though, is the curtains in my bedroom. But I only recognise them early in the morning when the sun is shining through them, which makes the reaction even stranger. We’ve been here a week and already I’ve lost track of how much time I’ve spent just lounging in bed wondering why they look familiar.
The ornaments and kitchen utensils I can understand, but curtain material? It seems so less tangible. It’s not something you use, it’s just something that’s there.
Still I can confirm that the memory has finally surfaced and been verified by my brother. The material, it turns out, is exactly the same as the material used for my mum’s bedroom curtains over thirty years ago. To be honest I’m not entirely sure if I’m more surprised that I remembered the pattern or that the fabric is still being sold, especially on the other side of the world. But one thing I am sure of is that other memories that include the curtains will now float to the surface.
Something that just reminds me that memory triggers can be everywhere, even for the memories you least expect. It’s simply a case of trusting in your instinct when it says, ‘You’ve seen this before,’ You’ve heard this before,’ ‘You’ve smelt this before.’ Then giving your memory the time it needs to surface - especially if it requires lounging in bed in the morning.
