Savour the Memory

In her book Phosphorescence, Julia Baird describes some of her memories of Central Park. Watch closely as she skilfully takes us by the hand and leads us into this majestic almost magical still place of green in one of the busiest and noisiest cities in the world.

‘Other times, I walked marathons around Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis reservoir with friends talking in rapid torrents as the lake gently rippled. The first of fall dropped quietly around us in what seemed to be an enchanted wood. In autumn, I carefully watched the trees grow orange, then red, from my office window - there would always be one to lead, another to trail, the others. With the branches of winter bare, each side of the park was again exposed to the other; the west could see the east again, with its fancy stores and billionaires’ houses that glittered across the quiet expanse.’

I have been to Central Park, albeit for just a couple of weeks in the summer. I too have walked around the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis reservoir and along Fifth Avenue. With Julia's words somehow I was there again and the memory was as fresh and delicious as the first time.

What is it about these experiences of faraway places and long ago times that makes the memories exquisite and heartfelt… touchable? Firing the longing to return. How do time and distance filter out the cold and rats and the hustle and leave us with the purest and most luscious of stirrings? And is it so terrible that we mysteriously forget about the things we would … well rather forget about? I think not. I choose to relish these times with a moist eye and a bursting heart. I choose the privilege of memory and with an insatiable appetite, savour it for as long as I can.