A Long Weekend

I spent my weekend on the other side of the big pond. I tore through suitcases of photographs and searched boxes for the right slides, the right art, the right memories. With time, it is the strangest things that hold memories. Crumpled photos of children in a distant village, a photo of goldfish in a plastic bag awaiting their launching into a bathtub pond; stray cats, kids and Kiwi birds. My life captured in a disorganized timeline tied into sloppy bundles with ribbon or twine. They are the fractured moments that came to summarize a sense of home for a traveller who never stays too long.