“…This is what I wait for. Gray light before the sun rises. Waking up at the lake. Musty smoke from a campfire thick in your hair, on your skin, shaken from your sweater. Earth under your fingers. Green things growing. The sound of blueberry pancakes sizzling, crackling in a buttered skillet. Laughter, when you are incandescently happy. Finding a relic. Freckles. Grilled peaches and sweet corn and watermelon juices running down your skin. Light falling through tress on a pathway empty of anyone but you. Hearing the waves. Waking to a quiet house. Coffee stains. Lipstick marks on a cup. Your spot. Being recognized. Shadows. Alignment, like stars, alignment like sacred. Wonder and thinking you are something bigger and I don’t know, that somehow it will be alright. Being okay. Eating all the raspberries from the patch and going through the day with red fingers. Belief an iron rod in your spine. Someone’s touch on your hand, a someone who might be more than an anybody, a someone who might be a somebody, who might be yours. Beginnings. Not endings. Maybe endings sometime. Words like honeysuckle and diaphanous. Smells stirring a memory deep in your mind like a stick in thick muddy banks, stirring up the water. Mud under your toes and you are five. Clear water. Green water. Blue water. Gray water more light than liquid. Sitting on the front of the boat and closing your eyes to the spray on sunburnt skin. A perfect song. An imperfect memory. Fragments. Muscles and sinews. Hearing someone hum. Watching a time happen and thinking, I will remember this.”
~ Hannah Nicole, A List of Soft Things
Photo: Angela Lindvall by Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott for Pop f/w 2002 via Mennyfox55
beautiful!
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W.o.w.
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That about captures it.
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Mmmmm
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WMS…Such a rich tapestry of impressions. Reading through this segment was like dipping my fingers in a fast-running stream, each immersion startling and delightful….
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Yes, exactly Lori. There’s a lot to sip here…
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I like this David. And I can remember thinking while something was happening that I would remember it, fondly. ❤
Diana xo
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Diana, I felt the same way. Thanks.
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That is a thing of beauty…the small moments that linger. Lovely. ☺
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a series of moments, making a life.
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like a string of pearls…
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She describes each moment as precious. I want to get in the habit of remembering moments like this each day, because this is what you remember when someone is gone.
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Yes, so true
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