Flash Fiction, Life Stuff, Main Genre: Nostalgia, Microfiction, Nostalgia, posts, Wisdom

Remembering Through an Old House

Microstory: The old house was filled with things that reminded them of themselves, of each other...even if these things were just in the background.}

 


 

We’re living in a time when retro and nostalgia are in style more than any other past era. So what things do we tend to remember? We obviously remember the big things…the big events, things that changed our lives, the milestones.

But there are also things in our minds that are hidden — things that are not linked to any big milestone, but when we see them in a photo or suddenly hear them mentioned, we get a more vivid recollection of the feelings of a particular time in the past than the polished memories of the big events always at the front of our minds.

How is it that these little things in the background sometimes live so strongly in our heads? They didn’t seem “important” at the time — but they were powerful enough to sometimes spark a stronger reaction than memories of an entire big event.

There is a saying by Cesare Pavese, saying, “We don’t remember days — we remember moments.” Maybe those little things remind us of the moments.

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Related to the prompt “Retrospective.

{More nostalgia posts and flash fiction}

"Time-Comber's Book" Series, Authenticity, Life Stuff, Microfiction, Reality, Retro Fiction, Truth, Wisdom

“The Time-Comber’s Sketchbook, #4: Depth of Heart at a 1940’s Fairground” (Flash Fiction Series)

"Time-Comber's Sketchbook" Intro: For more, click here.

 

 

 

Image of Carousel Horse PaintingEntry #4

A beautiful fairground in the 1940’s….I was floating through my current destination very slowly, taking in all the colors, sights and sounds.

In the back, among wrapped-up carousel horses, likely back-ups for the merry-go-round’s usual horses, was an artist standing with all sorts of glorious paint colors. In front of him stood a “blank” carousel horse — completely white, with only molding showing where the details would go.

And I felt, from that artist, a heavy heart…perhaps from something someone said to him, something that happened to him. It was the heart with an invisible stab wound.

And here he was, supposed to make something beautiful — something awe-inspiring — when he felt anything but inspired in his harsh world.

But I knew he would do it. Being a person of light is hard. You can mistrust everyone. You can question everything. But in the end, you do it…because there’s nothing else for you to do that fits.

 

 

 

More of “The Time-Comber’s Sketchbook”

 

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