Embellishments and History
The afternoon light has shifted, casting shadows on my side table and delighting me. Autumn is creeping into each day. Yesterday the rain that was predicted became reality. My hair was frumpy and wild, yet I was okay with the mess.
I've had a restorative week, full of knitting and reading. Starting a new knitting project does wonders to my excitement. I've been writing more about me, my ancestors and stories that were told to me. I wonder how much embellishing was done by the storyteller? How much was true? Then I wonder does it matter? Family histories are probably enhanced with the teller's thoughts or reactions.
I grew up in the city and yet had the luck of a summer cottage to visit - owned by my grandparents. I ran bare foot in the grass and learned to ride a bike without training wheels down a dirt road. I gathered lots of scraped knees and elbows, and cried over each hurt begging for a band aid. I collected dandelions, daisies, elderberries, raspberries and blackberries through out the summer months. I dug dirt to make mud pies and tried to catch a crayfish unsuccessfully in a stream. I ate massive amounts of root beer floats made by Gram. Sitting outside swatting mosquitoes and slurping my float, I daydreamed away. Gram would take us on daily walks and tell her stories. Sometimes she sang her stories and we chimed in because the songs were etched into our minds starting as lullabies.
No embellishing in my story. I probably cried way more than I recall since I was a sensitive child and whined more as well, but because I am the writer I can edit that bit out. My summers at the cottage have taken a fine shiny patina that occurs with the passage of time.
Do you have summer memories that you embellish?
Have a great weekend!