On Father's Day, my husband was finishing a project in the backyard and as I stood there holding his icy glass of lemonade for him (it was the least I could do, it was Father's Day, you know!), I was hit smack in the ears by a memory.
My hubby fired up his circular saw to trim a few pieces of wood for the ramp he was building and all of a sudden, my childhood came flooding back to me. In particular, my childhood with my dad.
I cannot remember a house that we lived in where my father didn't make some kind of addition or major alteration. The sound of the drill and the circular saw hummed through the air every spring, summer and autumn weekend of my childhood. Dad built patios, room additions, rabbit hutches, back decks, gazebos, bookshelves, pantries, even a dining room set.
Standing there last Sunday with my husband's icy lemonade glass dripping in my hand, I became a 9 year old, standing there with my dad's glass of icy lemonade dripping in my hand. Watching with interest how he sawed and drilled. Asking for his leftover scraps of wood to build a fort. Wanting to help him work, but unable to bear the heat. Skipping off to run in the sprinkler and drink some lemonade myself. The sound of the circular saw buzzing in the background of my play.
That night I called my dad to share my memory with him.
Is there a sound that brings back a memory so strong that it transports you to another time or place?
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1 comment:
The sound of my mother singing always takes me back to the little church in Arkansas where we were members from 2nd to 5th grade. It was there that I was old enough to remember, but young enough to still sit with my family. Very soon I was sitting with other kids and not right next to her.
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