I remind myself that my visits to this peace were once the chaos of another’s every day. I walk alongside the landscapes once familiar to ancestors. They are gone now…the soldiers – their mothers, their fathers, from either side of many languages.
I read the few lines of tell – the chosen chiseled words – that some best remember and others might become inquisitive. Time has harvested many of these cut letters, taking as it can its share of stories leaving only notes and hints, the ashes of one once known, or perhaps, two or three or more.
This film is an allegory, a reminder of hurt in war where pain is masterly crafted in simple words (but my how I wish I could write them).
I can imagine them gathered around a table perhaps with a jug of ale, mead or warm cider. Finger foods, breads, meats and good conversation abound in tales of great imagination possibly anchored in some old tale of Norse or other.
Home is to the soldier what home is to all of us, a chance to be whole and to be part of something more than ourselves.
Sometimes it is worthwhile letting some time pass by. It’s an opportunity for better reflection and gathering those thoughts that have laced their way through our day until this moment when at long last it is time to sit down and put virtual type to virtual paper.
Music, soundtracks, the tonal qualities that bring resonance to the ear, that unfold in the mind and create depth, meaning and memories. Music has always reminded me of my journeys; recovering bits of forgotten time when that one note, that melody takes me back, returning me to places and events, the experiences of my past.