Memory in Objects, in Places | Barbara Kagan

Last year I drove by my late aunt’s house, where her adult son still lives. My last memory of visiting the house was 25 years ago when she was dying of lung cancer. I was stunned to see her old car still parked in the driveway – the light blue buick, circa 1970, was so uniquely hers. All of her negative energy toward me came flooding back, like a punch in the gut.