Tunnels of Rain and Memory

Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote that happy and sad memories exist in separate and mutually inaccessible tunnels. From the place of blue skies and sunshine, she said, we remember back along the tunnel of joyful memories. Conversely, when we feel low, our minds cast back to other times of grief or sadness.

Rain works like that on me. I am from a rainy and temperate city, and have rarely experienced tropical downpours. In fact, the heavy rain that fell a few days ago in Puerto Vallarta was for me only the second time it rained during our many family visits, begun about twenty years ago.

The smell of the air, the sound of water rushing along the stone-cobbled streets, and the sensation of warm water on bare skin evoked so clearly the first rain we felt here.

Feeling the warm water hitting my head and arms as I followed my daughter, now a young woman walking rapidly toward the shelter of the hotel, I found myself standing again in memory on that first pink-tiled balcony.

This same daughter was a tiny child between us holding the railings, her eyes large with wonder as the noisy water sluiced down over the unresisting banana leaves and the palms swayed and creaked overhead.

Dear Reader, may these words open for you the tunnel of your own golden memories, from whence you can enjoy remembered access to the many happy times of your life.