I have one day that I hold close to my heart and cherish dearly. It's not even a full day, only one sunny afternoon spent with the people I love in the most magical place. Curious how happy memories fade, even the important ones, leaving just the afterglow of emotions that give you the feel of the memory, but not the actual facts.
I don't remember how the day started. It was just some ordinary lazy summer morning. What was not ordinary was the call from my father to go gather mushrooms in the forest nearby our hometown. I didn’t know anything about mushrooms, such as where or how to find them. The only thing I knew was that if you wanted to gather any mushrooms you should start really early in the morning, even before the break of dawn. It was still quite early in the morning for my taste, but I knew it was highly unlikely that we'd find any when we got there. Strangely, I was annoyed at my father's asking. I already had plans with my husband (some important ones, I'm sure, though I don't remember what they were). It was late to try and fit the whole forest trip into what remained of the day and neither I nor my husband had any interest in hunting mushrooms, but it was unusual enough of him to ask that we couldn't take a rain check without feeling like assholes. So we found the best clothes and shoes we could for the task since we didn't have any clue what to wear on such an occasion, got some snacks and went to meet my father at the bus station. The route to a nearby city went through a forested region and you could practically step out at any moment and wander into the woods in between the cities. That was our grand plan.
Upon meeting my dad it became obvious that he wasn't planning on gathering any mushrooms himself and just wanted an outing. I don't know what caused this; he was the type to spend his Sundays reading books and cooking something special, talking about how wonderful it would be to go to the forest on his next day off, not actually setting off on outdoor adventures in the middle of his weekend. He wore his casual clothes, stained and a bit worn out, that he wasn't afraid to ruin on our excursion, but still, it pained me that he didn't have any good activewear to use, not to mention good shoes to wear in the muddy forest. He had bought a new suit for work, but never wanted to spend the family’s spare money on anything related to his hobbies. Except for some new parts for his beloved computer, which were carefully considered and saved up for for several months.
We took the next bus, with my husband and I constantly chatting and Dad ever reading some new book on his phone. It was strange that he obviously wanted us to come with him, but he wasn't involving us in conversations that much and was really pensive and inwardly absorbed. We asked the bus driver to stop in 20 minutes and in that time my father gathered himself enough to present us with his best cheerful, talkative, thought-provoking self.
You never knew where your next conversation would lead with him. You could start with some very casual talk about your work and end up discussing black holes or USSR history. He liked to baffle people, surprise them with unfamiliar topics, spark discussions with unexpected questions. When I think about him, I imagine him sitting on his terrace, smoking with an ever-present twinkle in his dark eyes and a half-smile, as if he was reading you like an open book, knowing what you would say, what you would feel and still being interested in sharing those with you. There was a strange mixture of joy and sadness often underlying our conversations that I tried to guess the meaning of. I thought I understood him but did I ever? I think he shared a lot with me, but not too much of the stuff that I wouldn't understand, being so young and naive and brought up on his favorite fantasy books. I still discover a lot of the real-world truths that I couldn't ever have imagined, that he sheltered me from in our magical world.
Unfortunately, I don't remember what we talked about then, walking in the calm forest, looking for non-existent mushrooms. I remember the sunlight streaking through the brilliant green trees, I remember listening to his conversation with my husband and following a bit behind them, just contemplating the walk, the world around, musing that this marvelous place was so close to home and I never came here. How come I claim to love forests and I’d never traveled to this one that was practically on my doorstep? My annoyance at this unexpected mushroom-gathering trip quickly bled out and turned into a sense of wonder and quiet happiness.
Several hours into our walk, we encountered a stray dog. It was a strange sight in the middle of the woods, but no odd things ever looked unusual with my father involved. Of course, we would meet a dog to keep us company. It was the usual street dog, very friendly and seeming happy to share this walk with us. He kept me company while I was trailing behind my dad and husband. I wanted to give them time to get to know each other better and to simply enjoy and listen to my husband being baffled by my dad's discussions. My husband didn't have a father growing up, and my dad didn't have the son he always wanted. It was only us, me and my sister, his princesses, but nonetheless only girls. My father couldn't miss the opportunity to teach my husband something and the latter gave him the much needed attention and praise of a boy who was starting to navigate adult life by himself. I could share a bit of my father's attention, couldn't I?
I remember us finding a big fallen tree and sitting nearby to rest. My father had pulled out some apples and a little pocket knife and started to peel them, sharing them with us. It was so strange to see him bring those apples on our walk and have the means to peel them in the middle of nowhere. He looked so at peace there like it was his own porch and not a fallen tree in an unfamiliar forest. I always noticed that he liked to sit and peel apples before eating them, quietly thinking about something and sometimes talking to himself. When we made fun of him for this, he would joke that he liked talking to a smart person for a change.
And so, after finding two small mushrooms and a dog we ventured back to the road to catch a bus home, saying goodbye to our new friend and this wonderous slow place in the middle of everyday hustle. The day started as a regular summer day and finished as one of my happiest memories. I have one photo from that magical forest, which I still can't believe was so close to my old home.
Do you know that scientists proved that you change a memory when you think of it? The memories we like the most are our most crafted lies. I'm glad my mind shied away from any memories of my father after his unexpected death so that I can hope with a small amount of confidence that this day is unchanged and imprinted into my mind as it truly happened. Just one dreamy summer afternoon in the forest.
àäðåñà: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=924296
Ðóáðèêà: Ëèðèêà ëþáâè
äàòà íàäõîäæåííÿ 06.09.2021
àâòîð: Evergreen_Needle