Memory drifts and fades

By mid-August thousands of birds that flooded this valley in April to mate and raise their broods have moved on, leaving a feeling of vacancy in their wake, a feeling now punctuated by the solitary trill of a grasshopper.

They are gone and I can barely remember the splendor of their songs, or the curved lines of their flight.  Memory is a crude tool.  Even when exercised for optimum performance it only serves to keep a fraction of our experience within our psychic powers of recall.  Limitations demand we rely on seldom examined filters to determine what’s worth saving and what should get discarded. It’s a tiny sliver of experience that memory captures, a scant whisper of the reality we traveled through, now fading with the light of another precious day.

Author: Richard Reeve

I'm the Senior Director of Development at Panthera, a global conservation organization committed to stemming the population decline of cats in the wild. I enjoy rural living with my wife Judith and our two children in the Catskill Mountains of New York.

1 thought on “Fade”

  1. For all the praise of memory in the writings of Augustine, I find both in my interactions with others and within my intrapsychic musings aided by copious note taking, as dazzling lack.

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