Putting Away Childhood Things

As far as images go, this one of the lost glove seemed to touch a nerve with me this morning, when I came across it while walking one of our dogs.

By itself, it has no specific meaning or memory, but when coupled with the feeling of sadness and loss, it becomes a symbol of my childhood.

It’s the second day of autumn here in Canada. This time of year always fills me with nostalgia. I suppose most of that nostalgia springs from the years that I spent in Windermere, Muskoka. Autumn there was always filled with beautiful leaves painting the scenery like a watercolour. But then the leaves fall to the ground, awaiting the first snows of winter.

My immediate thought, when I saw this glove, was that the child who lost it wouldn’t even recognize it as his own, should he happen to pass this way again. That’s what this insight means to me. Will I, too, forget my life, once I’m dead and gone?

And, just so we don’t get too maudlin over one lost little glove, its companion was just 10 metres away, also lost on the pavement.

You can tell I’m getting old, can’t you?