August 14, 2012 
A glimpse, a moment – that’s all it takes.
Suddenly you see yourself, six-years-old, standing at the edge of a dock and looking into the water. Your big brown eyes soak up the excitement, the anticipation of jumping in and giggling your way back up the ladder and into the sunshine.
Sometimes life gives you a window into your own past, memories that you didn’t even realize you’d forgotten. Often they creep up on you unexpectedly. But, there are certain places, certain situations – the smell of mom’s cooking, the sunlight streaming in through a window – that evoke a nostalgia so strong it reintroduces us to our past selves in ways we never thought possible.
My brother-in-law and cousin take off in the sailboat. Photo Meghan J. Ward.
This past July, I went home to Ontario. This time I skipped my home town of Kanata and went straight to my uncle’s family cottage on Lake Joseph in The Muskoka, a beautiful lake region where I spent many weeks each summer throughout my childhood. It had been eight years since I’d last been there, and many things have changed. New boathouses were constructed and things were adjusted here and there, but the biggest difference was that in the years I’d spent away from the cottage, siblings and cousins had children – a total of ten of them. For the first time, I’d be sharing that space with two handfuls of the next generation.
There is little downtime with children around, and I had limited time to sit and reflect, but the moments of nostalgia came knocking anyway. Often they would pass in a split second, but some evenings I had the chance to just sit and be in my surroundings. One night I lay on the pullout couch in the boathouse where I was sleeping and listened to loons calling for hours. The air was perfectly warm and breezy. I watched the moon rise until it decided to stop right in the center of a window, casting light inside like a beacon.
As moonlight sparkled on the water, I took time to reflect on the sense of familiarity of these sounds, this place. This was quintessential Ontario in summertime – the way I knew it as a child. The moment rippled through me, making me feel like a kid again. Yet here I lay, 28-years-old, with new roots growing deeply in the Canadian Rockies. In that same moment I felt the gap, the distance created by my new life on the other side of the country. The strangeness of it all made me miss the simplicity of childhood – when what you know is all you really know.
Carter and Poppa walk down the street in Port Carling. Photo Meghan J. Ward.
The next day I went searching for rocks and sticks in the forest with my four-year-old nephew, Carter. Later that day, my father and I took Carter into Port Carling to explore and get an ice cream cone. I watched my childhood being repeated in my young nephew. I saw his joy and my childhood joy in him. It was a beautiful moment and one that helped me to reconcile the strangeness I’d felt the night before.
As I cleaned the ice cream off Carter’s mouth we laughed and suddenly I was a kid all over again. Even when our own childhood memories slip our minds, that next generation is there to remind us of the things that once made life so exciting. Even when you can’t remember, children are there to help you create new memories.
They are vessels, open and free, ready and willing to take you along for the ride. All you need to do is hop on board.
This post has been on my mind for a number of weeks, and I can thank Katie Levy of Adventure-Inspired for inspiring me to finally write it. You can check out her recent reflections on returning to her own roots here.
Wonderful, Meghan! What I love most about the post is how vividly you describe the moments that illicit those special memories. It’s amazing how one small thing can conjure up an incredible amount of emotion and nostalgia. I also love that you’re sharing your childhood with the kids in your family! It’s such a wonderful opportunity to make new memories that look quite a bit like the old memories, just with different people in them. I’m glad my post inspired you to get this one on “paper!”
Thanks, Katie. It felt really good to sit down and write this morning. It had been awhile since I wrote just for me. This one brought tears to my eyes just thinking back.
Oh my…what wonderful thoughts to share about a special place in our families life.
Thanks for reading.
Thanks for sharing this very intimate and familiar story about summertime family fun. It’s a universal experience many of us share yet each recollect in our own special way.
Thanks, James. I appreciate you taking the time to comment. It’s so true that it’s something we all share and yet it’s deeply personal for each of us.
Hi Meghan! It wasn’t long but I also took a nostalgic visit, to an outskirts town where my parents temporarily took residence during my early childhood — my dad’s job as a medical representative, my mom a teacher and all that. Just relished that moment — of being where you took your first steps and still come back. Thanks for sharing!
Hey, thanks! It seems everyone has their own version of this story and it’s been exciting to hear various renditions.
Megan – excellent post! You really captured, in beautiful & eloquent words, many experiences I’ve had since returning to Chicago, my childhood home. I understand the push/pull of the place you grew up very much, and felt it often while living on the West Coast.
It’s wonderful that you can experience them on your own terms. After losing beloved family members, these memories often return against my will – as part of the grieving process.
Thankfully, because of inspirational & supportive friends like you, I can better accept these memories when they force themselves into consciousness, and embrace the good times more.
Thanks so much for sharing this!
Thanks, Marissa! I can respect what you’ve written about “experiencing them on my own terms.” I am very thankful at this point in my life, though I can relate to a small degree with the people I’ve said goodbye to. Best wishes on your continuing journey!
Reading your post, I paused at the words, “some evenings I had the chance to just sit and be in my surroundings.” Ah yes. Going home and having the time to sit and reflect is a rare gift. For many people living in the West (both US and Canada), their roots lie elsewhere. I’m the exception. I still live in and around the same mountains my parents took me to as a child. Familiarity can wipe away that reflection, when our roots and our branches are so intertwined. Thanks to this post, I will head out today to look at my surroundings through a younger lens.
Kim, I’ve often wondered what it would have been like to be raised in the mountain environment. Sometimes I think that I would have taken it for granted to a certain degree, only because, as you said, my roots and branches would be so intertwined. We all have moments to rediscover these places, or even to acknowledge for the first time our gratitude for these beautiful places that we have become rather used to. I know I keep that in check each and every day when I wake up to the mountains outside my window. I try to say hello and acknowledge them like it’s the first time. Doesn’t always work, but it’s worth a shot!
Hi Meghan
That was an excellent post, we all have our moments of nostalgia, me more than most.
I find the older I get the more I think of my own childhood and the more I enjoy being with my grandchildren.
Just to see Carter holding his grandad’s hand makes me think of similar times with my own grandchildren.
Bill
Thanks for taking the time to comment, Bill. I find myself to be a very nostalgic person and I often wonder if everyone is like that or if some of us are more so. A lot of it is taking the time to acknowledge those moments – essentially be a spectator to our own lives, in a good way. The more I pause to reflect, the more I notice.
Remembering your childhood, and those special moments of days gone by, are not only important for you…but can be passed down and used to commemorate your family history, and what is important to you.
As I am researching my family history so much has been lost. I often wonder about who my ancestors were as people–or look in the mirror and wonder if I am like them. I traces faded maps and bits of information to retrace their steps, and feel a deep connection to even the earth they turned, working as farmers. The little things mean alot to me now because it is all I have of them.
So my point is–great job on your blog! I really enjoyed this entry, and I think it will become important also to your family in the future. Another generation will cherish these words and cherish those memories, and maybe go camping in the places you once did
I really encourage others to do the same–write down or blog or create a scrapbook to be passed down. It will mean alot to your family, when they are searching their history & seeking to understand where they came from.
http://inourhearts.wordpress.com/
Thanks so much for your comment, Lynn. You make a really great point here, and one that I often overlook in my blogging. I am creating a great archive for the future and that’s something worth cherishing for sure. I know I wish I knew more about my grandparents, other ancestors, and even my parent’s lives before I came along. Thanks again.
I have tears in my eyes Meghan! I agree with Lynn, we need to be writing, journalling, blogging, recording these thoughts and experiences more often. They are a precious gift not only to us, but to others, and to our families in a very special way.
Thanks for the comment, Laura. It is a good reminder – often life gets so busy I don’t make time to do this type of writing, but I really enjoy it.