Rewinding time
On panning for memories, time travel and fast-ticking clocks.
Last weekend, my brother and I spent a few hours sifting through more belongings from our parent’s home.
We sat, side by side, on the sand-coloured living room carpet strewn with cardboard boxes. Brother and sister, panning for memories.
Every ten minutes or so, one of us would stand up, say something about creaky knees or lost circulation, and transfer items to two designated charity boxes in the hallway, packed to the brim with coffee table books, paperbacks, DVD and VHS box sets (except for those marked with a grandchild’s dance show, or a wedding reception. Precious keepers, obviously). On and on we went, sifting and sorting. Holding and beholding.
My brother’s beloved golden labrador slept nearby as we worked, half-opening an eye from time to time, to check on proceedings. Animals just know, don’t they? It got to the stage where I became almost paralysed with indecision. Should I keep the small, time-tarnished silver carriage clock that was at my mother’s bedside for as long I can remember? Likewise, the others that had faithfully kept family time in over the decades? The next morning, I found myself frantically texting my brother at 7 am to save the carriage clocks — my message full of typos and hope that I wasn’t too late. That there was still time.
I just wanted more time.
Oh, and could he please keep the small Swarovski crystal swan I gave my mother one Christmas? My first ‘real’ present for her? And the sewing basket, the one she faithfully used, well, forever, filled with half-used packets of white and black elastic, old cotton reels and her best sewing scissors?
He saved them all.
In her Substack
, , co-founder of Refinery29, writes about a similar experience with her friend Rebecca, after her mother passed away.this whole day with my friend reminded me how necessary and also nourishing that process of collecting is … the seeing, the surveying, the editing, the keeping … and, eventually, the passing along ❤️. When we talk about a circular economy, there is so much humanity in each of these stages of things, not only the things themselves. Tracing their lifespan before us, with us, and after us, something I never cease to marvel about.
—
“That’s really cool, mum,” my daughter said, when I brought my mother’s sewing basket home and placed it on the kitchen table.
Over a week later, I’m still not sure where to put things, including the impossibly delicate, absolutely not dishwasher-proof bone china tea set.
If there’s ‘A place for everything, everything in its place’ — wisdom attributed to Benjamin Franklin — what to do about the everythings which all had their places, once, but no longer do? Where to place them?
The clocks still work. One of them ticks SO loudly - and quickly. “Did it always sound like that?” Will asked me. I think it did. If I close my eyes, I could be back in the lounge of my south west London childhood home, circa the late 70s/early 80s, stretched out in front of the fire after school.
In his book, How To Inhabit Time,
describes a similar, time-travelling experience:Having spent my teen years fanatically devoted to riding freestyle BMX bikes, I can sometimes feel handlebars in my grip like a phantom limb …
I can tell you there were moments lying alone on the couch in my forties, where I would close my eyes and my body would rehearse these movements it knew so well, my legs and arms outstretched, riding a phantom bike, scaling a ramp lost to history.
James K. A. Smith, How To Inhabit Time: Understanding the Past, Facing the Future, Living Faithfully Now.
I let the clock finish its cycle, but chose not to rewind it.
In his book, Smith reframes nostalgia in the most hopeful, helpful and beautiful way. He encourages us to honour the past, viewing cherished memories as treasures that will always be with us, and part of us, as we embrace the present and look ahead to the future, in faith.
Nostalgia wants to undo time, walk it all back, as if this were some sort of recovery. Grace wants to unleash our history for a future with God that could only be ours living into the version of ourselves that the world needs.
—James K. A. Smith
Hearing that familiar tick-tick, after all these decades, brought deep comfort, at just the right time. And even if the clock doesn’t have a place in our lives now, I can’t quite bring myself to let it go.
I just don’t remember it going so fast.
Absolutely beautiful, Jenni! The clock’s faster tick such a perfect observation. I’m so glad you have these treasured items. Having recently been through this, I find it so interesting to see which unexpected pieces provide the most comfort. 💕
Oh wow Jen! This is so beautifully said and I love how you have woven the quotes in. I have yet to do this with my folks but remember so well when my mother-in-law’s possessions fit into two boxes as we neared her final days and how it seemed so sad. But it also came with the realization that a life could never be reduced to a few trinkets - our memories tell a bigger story and the memories of all those who knew them - an even bigger story. Maybe that is part of the significance of having that “great cloud of witnesses” - they see the whole story and know the full value of a life.
When I come for a visit, the want to hear the stories tied to the trinkets and celebrate the beautiful life of your mom. 🤗🤗