Every year at this time, when the daffodils appear, I think of the poem by William Wordsworth,
“I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud”
Do you know that one?
He stumbles across a massive field of daffodils. He stops and marvels at it, not realizing as he does so that he is creating a memory that will bring him joy for many years to come. I love the last bit –
“I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.”
I don’t know if there is a greater gift to us as thinking, feeling beings than to be able to conquer up memories of people, places and things that have moved us.
“…and thenmy heart with pleasure fills…”
Sometimes I have these moments of panic that I am going to lose the memories of my dad. I frantically search my mind the way a nervous woman’s hand might plunge into her misplaced purse. As her fingers grasp each familiar item, she slowly begins to relax –