The day of my memory wasn’t on some luscious sandy expanse with clear blue waters. It was in fact a rather dreary day at Donegal Bay, and the carpet of jellyfish on the surf looked almost as if you could walk on them, they were so thick. What was amazing to a small boy was the shells on the shore, there were hundreds, maybe thousands on them. As I look back at it they were not pristine in any way. I am sure most were broken or irregular, but I enjoyed collecting them. In the end, I had a little suitcase full of them, though the case was probably not much larger than a lunch box.
Little treasure chest Full of King Neptune’s riches Shells of memory
I drove past a quiet lay-by today. It was the same one that a couple of years ago I went to with my wife to observe a meteor storm. The ambient light in our little town made seeing the spectacle difficult so we drove a couple of miles out of town and parked to watch the light show. It remains a memorable experience, and even more so since she is now gone.
A flash of brilliance
Streak of light lifting the heart
So swiftly passing
You too a life-light
Giving incredible joy
But you to have passed
Time travel was a genre of both literature and film that my wife, Dianne enjoyed. She marveled at concept and adored Dr Who, Time Traveller’s Wife, Somewhere in Time, and so many more. I am blessed now by the memory of having shared these with her, and as the poem suggests revisiting the life we had together.
It was late summer and a refreshing summer breeze gently blew. The Roma family sat near a clearing at the roadside, their piebald pony munching grass as they themselves ate breakfast. They did not hear the approach of the SS patrol from the forest, nor expect the burst of automatic fire. They could not know of the burning of their wagon home, or that their precious pony would become the property of a Ukrainian peasant after the beast had bolted. No more laughter or music would flow from their campfires, nor would any ever again lovingly call their names.