It's quite noticeable
when you enter my home the haunting melody of my space heater. To
most people it is an annoyance, the constant squeak, squeak squeak of
the heater as it churns out heat and a pretty (albeit) fake flame.
To me it is a sound of my child hood. It reminds me of a double
wooden glider swing that my parents had in my childhood. It wasn't
around for many years, it was replaced with a well hung swing in my
youth, and then a double swing for my wedding. But the sound of it's
squeaky hinges still remind me of my childhood days of imagining on
that swing. I can close my eyes and picture it vividly in my minds
eye. Eventually, as most outdoor equipment does, it had to be
removed because of weather and wear, but I loved it none the less.
The sound often makes me wonder what kind of things my daughter will
remember as she grows up. What strange sounds and smells will
comfort her? The smell of fresh beef makes me think of a warm hug as
my father would come home from a long day cutting meat and greet me
with a firm embrace. These things hold little value to someone else,
but to me they mean the world, my world and I wonder what strange
footprints I've left in my child's memory.
