Mapping the Past

It started with a simple question. I asked my husband randomly if his family ever had a step stool of some kind in their kitchen when he was growing up. He said no but his grandparents did and his grandpa always sat on it when they would come over to visit--crowding up in the kitchen together because that was the heart of the house. I have a memory of sitting on one in the kitchen of our Kansas City bungalow, practicing my reading while my mom cooked dinner. More vividly, though, I can recall the one at my grandparents' farmhouse that I sat on until a growth spurt sent my knees knocking against the long farm table. I tried to describe it what it looked like but eventually settled for searching through a large box of photos. I found one photo where you can see it in the background, slightly cut off by the camera.

I also found ten or fifteen photos of the farm itself. I am sure I have more but I was intrigued by the focus of these photos. They are not particularly artful or creative. I remember taking some of them and others I may have just acquired. But past me seemed extremely focused on documenting and mapping every inch of the farm that I could. I was creating a seasonal collage of a place that has always felt like a second home.

I am a person who is often caught up in the past and struggles with nostalgia. I find it especially ironic that I am teaching The Great Gatsby and this week's reading includes Nick's repeated claim that "you can't repeat the past." I don't think I am trying to repeat or recreate it. I think I am simply holding on to something that warms my heart and is filled with memories of my family.

Here are just a few photos, stitched together across time and season and memory.