I was skimming through some images a friend sent me of the snow back home in Savannah. Most of the images were of the old fish camp where I spent a good chunk of my youth. The camp was nestled on the banks of the Ogeechee River just outside Savannah. While the images look different from my memories of 50 years ago, there is still a strange familiarity, even with snow on the ground. But one image stood out amongst the rest, it is a shot taken from the road leading up to the main house. I don’t know if it was glare of the sun shining through the Spanish moss or the glistening of light off the snow. But I swear I could smell the scent of wet Spanish Moss after a cold rain.
At first I thought it was just a trick of the brain, but then I scrolled through the images again looking for shots to save. Then it happened again, that musky scent, I can almost smell it now. It’s funny how scents, music, or even images can take you back to a time your brain has nearly forgotten. And for a split second you can recall the entire memory just like it just happening now. I remember when my friend’s brother drove me down the long dirt road to the river. The road turned and narrowed, and we rode over a large drainage ditch to what looked like a small island with a lot of cabins like something off “Gilligan’s Island”. While now most of the cabins are long gone, the Spanish moss is still hanging from the oak trees that are still around.
While the houses I grew up in around Bloomingdale is still there, looking at it now it’s not the same. The air is different, the vibe is different I feel like a stranger touching ground for the first time. All except for the river. It’s hard to explain the magic that river has over me it’s a blessed piece of ground. I don’t know if it was the people that lived there or something much deeper. Either way memories are what they are, both good and bad, but it’s up to us how we deal with them. We can either try and run away from them or we can embrace them using them to clear the path to a more peaceful present moment.
At first I thought it was just a trick of the brain, but then I scrolled through the images again looking for shots to save. Then it happened again, that musky scent, I can almost smell it now. It’s funny how scents, music, or even images can take you back to a time your brain has nearly forgotten. And for a split second you can recall the entire memory just like it just happening now. I remember when my friend’s brother drove me down the long dirt road to the river. The road turned and narrowed, and we rode over a large drainage ditch to what looked like a small island with a lot of cabins like something off “Gilligan’s Island”. While now most of the cabins are long gone, the Spanish moss is still hanging from the oak trees that are still around.
While the houses I grew up in around Bloomingdale is still there, looking at it now it’s not the same. The air is different, the vibe is different I feel like a stranger touching ground for the first time. All except for the river. It’s hard to explain the magic that river has over me it’s a blessed piece of ground. I don’t know if it was the people that lived there or something much deeper. Either way memories are what they are, both good and bad, but it’s up to us how we deal with them. We can either try and run away from them or we can embrace them using them to clear the path to a more peaceful present moment.
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