I’ve been focused on my Storyworth project for a few weeks. I’ve spent a lot of time drenched in memories of my mom and dad and walking on a virgin prairie. I’ve been listening to imagined conversations and revisiting places that don’t exist anymore. Progress and time have claimed many things from my past and I’m beginning to realize a lot of my memories are starting to fade as well. Suddenly I feel like I’m in a hurry to do my remembering.
Some stories burst forth in a fashion to steal the show, others I’ve really had to dig for. Yesterday I found myself flipping through my box of old photos in search of inspiration when I came upon something that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
A picture I had never seen before appeared in my hand – it was of a dog I’d only heard about in stories. I had no actual memory of the dog in the photo but he was the image of one I will never forget.
I stared at the old dog for a minute and searched my memory for the stories Dad told about him. His name was King and he was my grandfather’s dog. The picture is almost a hundred years old but in an instant King came to life in my mind and in my heart and morphed into my own dear Chesapeake. And in that moment, amid the fading memories, history repeated itself and both King and Chester lived again. ❤️
