DAY 245

the path of memory

This coffee pot belonged to my mother, it´s a present from my father when they married, it´s the only piece remaining of a whole set and it doesn´t have even its lid. The cups and plates were broken very soon not only because they were used very often, but also because one time my mother left them in a house my family had by the sea after the summer, and when she came back most of the pieces were broken after a party hosted by my father´s brother. She told me that she even find some cups outside the house, near the rocks and the sand

She took the coffee pot with her and she kept it for more than sixty years. Of course, she couldn´t use it, but she wanted to have it anyway, because it reminded her that stage of her life, with its ups and downs, its sour and sweet memories

In fact, this simple piece of crockery is linked to lots of memories and have allowed my mother to outline years that I hadn´t lived because I am the youngest child. By listening my mother, that time became  a part of my life, not as old stories, but as real experiences. I know that this can sound strange: this was my mother´s youth and the childhood of my siblings, not mine, I didn´t live those years because I am much younger than those who indeed lived them, but regardless how foolish it can sound, I internalized them as my own memories, and believe me or not, they left a lasting impression on my psyche

Maybe this happened at the very beginning because I needed childish references when I was a child, my father was dying and everything around moved me to grow fast, and my siblings’ stories about their childhood (often too sweetened) were as good as any other. And later on, because I needed justification for why my young life seemed to go adrift and somehow I had to have the life of an adult

Anyway, when I started this healing journey I had to heal those memories which were stuffed with lies, secrets, misunderstandings and resentment that couldn´t be mine, apart from love, laughs, fun and hopes that were not mine, either (I know...)

A few months ago I asked my mother for this coffee pot

She was a bit amazed because she thinks it´s something too old and ordinary. But I have always loved it and it holds a deep symbolic meaning at this moment of my life. It still triggers lots of memories, but now I can tell the difference between memories of other persons and my own memories which are about the afternoons I spent listening, sharing, dreaming, enjoying, feeling and trying to figure out the meaning of the events... and in any case, I can look at them without anger

Hopefully, I could treasure it at least forty years more


favourite photo monday: symbol