Memories by Barry Hughes

On my walk today I was surprised by a wonderful flood of memories sparked by this Wisteria vine. That is my favorite aspect of sweet memories, they sometimes just come, unbidden.

I grew up in a little house on a steep hillside with towering trees all around. On the downhill side of the house was a massive Hickory tree, straight and true. And somewhere along the way, decades before I arrived on the scene, a Wisteria vine had been planted at the base of the impressive trunk.

With each passing year the vine had grown larger and wound its way a little further up the tree. By the time I was a boy, the Wisteria had climbed up and up to a height of probably 40 feet. 

As a boy, this became one of my favorite spots around my home. The vine was thick and sturdy and it always made me think of Jack and the Beanstalk. I spent many an hour looking up into that tree and imagining the climb. Even to this day I wish I’d given it a try. I count this as one of my life’s regrets. 

But the best memories are of the flowers, when the tree trunk was outlined with purple as far up as I could see. These blossoms were like Christmas lights wrapped around a pole, only better. You could see this show in the bright sunlight of summer, all day long.

I remember how I always thought the blossoms looked like clusters of grapes, and each year as they burst forth I would recount in my mind the story I learned in Sunday School of the 12 spies in the Book of Numbers. Good and faithful Joshua sent back a report of the land being rich, flowing with milk and honey and having clusters of grapes so large that took two men to carry one back to the camp.

All these memories from a simple flower. What a gift to me this day. This experience has reminded me of how rich life can be, even in difficult times. This experience has reminded me how important it is that I pay attention, lest I miss such moments. This experience has renewed my desire to be a person that might  find their way, someday, into the good memories of others. 

What a joy to think that, perhaps, I have the opportunity to be a part of the blessed memories of another by the way I live or by the way I love or by the way I care. This day might hold the chance for such an encounter. This day might bring a timeless gift. I am going to pay attention.

Peace.

By Barry Hughes