a wake of sorts behind them, the disturbed water in the case of a
boat, and a vapour or exhaust trail in the case of a plane.
move house. One's trail of memories belongs to the previous home
and area you lived in, so all your established points of reference still
exist in the past. It's not until you've lived for a time in that new habitat
and the 'wake' has moved on that your recollections and perceptions
pertain to your new surroundings and become 'synchronised'.
old house and neighbourhood we had moved from in 1972, carried
over to our new place of residence. Part of it was down to the fact that
even 'though we'd relocated, much of my daily life still took place in my
former locale, but it was more than that. I simply hadn't yet clocked up
enough of a store of fresh experiences and associations to draw upon
in place of the older ones. I therefore yet viewed the present
through the fixed filter of past perceptions.
When a plane has passed out of sight, its trail lingers for a bit
before eventually evaporating. Which is not to say that new memories
and perceptions replace older ones, or that the older ones disappear
(we shouldn't push the analogy too far); only that newer memories and
impressions then move to the front of the queue of our recollections,
becoming the lens through which we view our present environs.
I have high hopes of one day saying something
profound. This wasn't it.