Le Desert Child
Louis Vuitton in the Desert. Courtesy of Live Journal
When my cousin first got here from Israel, she loved the rain. She would stand in front of an open window, lean her head back, close her eyes and let the wind and rain put out the sweltering heat she seemed to have brought with her from foreign lands, all the while exclaiming, "eh ze keff!" (oh how fun!). A desert child cooling herself with German winds.
When she went to the English Garden, out would come her Chesire cat smile. The river refreshed her sandy soul, and soothed her as it flowed by in rhythm, as rivers and streams do. The swings, on the other hand, brought out the child in her. She would grin, her eyes shining, as she went higher and higher.
It’s weird. When I saw her smile, her whole little face bright, I viewed her not as a child but as an 18 year old, remembering her time in Germany in patches. Her memory will be tainted with what parts she chooses to remember; the hours spent missing home, the moments spent staring intently at the river while the breeze plays with her hair. She won’t know how she once was, how she smiled, how she was a child. It might come back to her occasionally, perhaps while she fixes her hair, applies her make-up, dresses up and heads off into the night, enjoying her newborn adulthood.
PS
I introduced my 35 year old sister to youtube.com yesterday. A child of the 80s, she can't get enough :).
Labels: Writing
posted by Sabrina at 10:33 PM
1 Comments:
Nice observations. Interesting to think about the differences of living in another climate. Also, you raise the question about infantile amnesia (forgetting our childhood). Yes, it is a remarkable effect indeed, that we can easily describe changes in the present moments, but rarely are able to recall accurate descriptions of the past. Our memories seem to filter our present moments such, that the reality is always mixed with our fantasies. In fact, there is even the theory that "to see" is nothing else than to be dreaming awake.
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