There is a scarlet thread, like Rahab's cord, that leads, not to freedom but rather to the days of our childhood. Call it what you will, it has more to do with memories than reality. Following it brings back kodachrome photos of endless sunny days at the beach, happy holiday meals, and adventurous road trips. Those memories, as we age, keep the same brilliance and clarity as they did when we were decades younger.
Even when events happen that tarnish the remembered ones, we cling to them like childhood treasures--a favourite doll, or a toy, perhaps. And that is not wrong.
Reminiscences are what sustain us and envelop us as warmly as an old blanket. Without them, the often harsh reality of life would wear us down and crush our spirits.
Now that my father is aging, a victim of his own mind's failings, I especially hold onto those glimpses of the past with him as a vibrant man. Perhaps that is what he sees, too. If he does, then we are still bound by that scarlet cord...
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