Tired of Winter: Walking in Forgotten Footsteps

Around this time every year, I start to reach my fill of winter. The cold is no longer cozy; the snow is no longer magical. So I thought this month, I’d live a bit vicariously and share photos that represent what I’m eagerly awaiting with warmer temperatures.

Copyright Sarah Davidson 2021

I love to travel, but with the pandemic…..

Well, I keep telling myself it won’t last forever–and it won’t–but I’ve also used this extra time to look back over fond memories. And the wintry weather has me especially thinking back on our last trip to Florida. One place we visited was an old fort, not far from Saint Augustine, called Fort Matanzas. We explored the structure, even climbing up a narrow ladder to the top.

But one of my favorite moments wasn’t from above, but from this one window: I couldn’t help but wonder how many people before me had looked through it as well, how many people–separated from me by a million different things–had witnessed this exact same perspective. How had it changed? How had it stayed the same? What did I have in common with those people? What were our differences?

It was possible, I supposed, that I could have nothing in common with so many of the other vacationers who had stood in that same place–a part from the fact that we were all enjoying the Florida sun and a bit of history. But it was just as possible that I could have everything in common with them.

And what of the soldiers who had once been stationed here? Of kids who came across the fort while exploring? I could just as easily share similarities with them, or be their polar opposite.

And still, others who would come later and walk that path, look out that same window, could be completely different or shockingly similar me. Perhaps someone else who dreams of being a writer would also stand there. Perhaps a fellow librarian or comic nerd.

Most likely, people such as those will stand there in the future, and already have before.

And even if the others who gaze from that window are nothing like me at all, at least we’ll have one thing in common: For the briefest of instants, we both looked out the same window at the same view.

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