20 July 2011

my bathtub is a time machine.

i drew myself a bath, let the water run over my toes. i poured in some salts because i like their grit, and i like the way they smell, though i'm not sure what the fragrance is supposed to be. they are a homemade gift in an unmarked glass bottle. they're sweet and fresh. i've nearly used a third of my portion.

then i poured some more.

and just like that, i found myself somewhere in a memory. i was a little girl in an unnamed apartment...clean and white and empty with firm brown carpet and freshly painted walls. i saw myself exploring, peeking around corners, and pondering adventure. i was there. submerged in this recollection. it was keen and real, and then it was gone. i couldn't tell you how old i was or whose apartment i was in. but the scent of those salts brought me back...through a series of buried connections i found myself in the past. time travel. it was so vividly distinct and so cloudy, like remembering a dream. it shot me through the webs of my subconscious and then snapped me back to my bath.

i don't know if this makes any sense at all. or if it's supposed to. i think the smell of the salts must have reminded me, some version of myself, of painted walls. fresh paint.

this remembering has happened a surprising amount lately. perhaps it's because i live on the farm again...i'm home...stepping over this familiar ground. or maybe it's because now i have a child of my own and find myself reliving the past often, find myself aware of my age. aware that i'm supposed to be an adult, yet excited and envious to watch him grow. i find a part of myself beautifully longing and aching for something that has past away. contemplating breveity. but still, i'm delighted with each fleeting memory...capturing each treasure in a mason jar like children do.

i'm thoroughly enjoying this life, the making and the remembering. the change. from time to time, though, i do admittingly get lost in the photographs, even ones from not even a year ago. when our son was born. the nostalgia is sticky sweet and heavy like smoke. the years lap unyieldingly, flying right on by. i'm amazed at how different everything has become. but what's stranger still, is how much everything is the same.*

*but more on that later.


  1. i need to share some of this time travel with you... it stirs me

  2. oh Sarah, how beautiful & moving...
    it brought to mind that this past year i've had more deja-vu's than ever...in & out & barely there moments that intensely connect me to a pervious moment in time: be it the gentle sway of a fabric in the breeze, the suspended scent of another's perfume in an elevator, the melodic tone of a windchime floating through a room, the texture of a fabric running through my fingers...that spark one of the pearls along my strand of life; & i am, yet again, reminded of where i've been & how i've lived & that i'm meant to stay connected...even if for just another moment.

  3. I know exactly what you mean. I've had so many of these moments lately where I almost long for my childhood - and get a sense of fright at how short life really is. But it reminds me to make every day special and store all my memories close so I can pull at them whenever I want.

  4. Love u LUBNU and so proud of who u r

  5. oh you write so beautifully, woman. I think we should chat soon- would love to see how you are getting along metallically speaking and otherwie :)

  6. sai looks so much like you based on this photo. i love this photo. i am so inspired by your posts. i am so inspired by you. your love. your faith. your creativity. your beauty. where you've come from. where you're going. i am so blessed to have met you & paul, so thankful for that 6th floor of smith hall.