A Past Not Yet Gone

So a couple nights ago I decided to go on a little walk before the sunset. Without even really thinking about it I set off towards my old Elementary School, a path I've walked a thousand and a half times before. But a walk I could take backward and with my eyes closed suddenly became very nostalgic, as I realized that nothing seemed to have changed. The little wildflower garden next door was in bloom and the little path through the fences was just as weathered as always with leaves forever caught between the slats and the sidewalk and vines growing between the posts. The playground was just as bright and the swing sets sat peacefully still like a pencil sketch waiting for the children to play and squeal and once again bring life and color to the scene. And the sunset was like a painting as it decorated the sky and slipped behind the line of darkened trees. Nothing had changed...nothing but me. Yet somehow, I could still step back into a past not yet gone.

Oh, the solace that comes from a fixed point. A moment in time where we can always return. In a world where all pride themselves on consistent progression, constant change, and the struggle to not be left behind, it remains ever more precious and significant to find and keep those places that cannot be marred by the passage of time.

For Wallace Stegner in "Crossing to Safety," his fixed point was Baker Hill. Marcel Pagnol, a French filmmaker and writer, found his solace in the Hills of La Treille, France. And Anne of Avonlea would always return to her beloved Green Gables on Prince Edwards Island. It seems to me that we must each have one. A special spot where we can remember days gone by and rest from the racing world. A place, when all else changes, life move on, and friendships decay with distance, where we can return and find ourselves in the dusky twilight of a memory, the peace of a previous life, and the solace of a past not yet gone.

-Natalie Cherie