Almost Home

Every now and then the past can come back and surprise you.  Sometimes it’s a more subtle process, so that you seem to have no memory of something and THEN a little later on you do.  Let me explain; a few weeks before Christmas my two friends Bob and Sue contacted me separately to let me know they had found a slim, self-published volume of my poetry on their bookshelves and how much they were enjoying it, particularly the title poem, ‘Almost Home’.

Now these days I have a limited short-term memory, and generally have a clearer memory of the distant past.  However, this was not jogging any parts of my brain at all.  The following week having coffee at their house the collection, in a bold orange cover, was sitting on the table.  It looked utterly unfamiliar, and then I picked it up and started reading. Oh, what a different James Nash wrote those fifteen poems.  Different from how I now see myself connecting with the world.  Different in terms of much of the subject matter. And very different from how I write now.

It had been put together I reckon over twenty years ago and bears all the signs of an early attempt at desktop publishing.  I had obviously stapled each copy myself.  How many had I loosed on an unsuspecting world?

And then I remembered. The poignancy of my past incarnations caught up with me.  Sometimes music can do it, sometimes a scent is the trigger,  or a photograph, but here it was through a reconnection with my words and experiences from the closing years of the last century.

This recollection from my past seems a fitting way to begin 2019.

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