I am thankful for my childhood, in what is now a foreign land, a far country, for my adventuring parents who came to a place on the map where neither had ever been. I am thankful for the memories I was given of the first river (though scarcely a trickle, until snowmelt gave it substance for a week or two), the first light.
All the Ivans dreaming of their villages
all the Marias dreaming of their walled cities,picking up fragments of New World slowly,not knowing how to put them together nor how to joinimage with image, now I know how it was with you, an old mapmade long before I was born shows ancientrights of way where I walked when I was ten burning with desirefor the world's great splendors, a child who traced voyagesindelibly all over the atlas, who now in a far countryremembers the first river, the firstfield, bricks and lumber dumped in it ready for building,that new smell, and remembersthe walls of the garden, the first light.—from “A Map Of The Western Part Of The County Of Essex In England,” Denise Levertov
image: 1513 World Map