Are you afraid of running out of time? Being poisoned by emotions past their date of expiration? Being relegated to the past tense, to the vault where all dusty memories are kept, where names are spoken in hushed tones and details are blurred by the panacea of time and space?

Somehow I feel like some memories are bigger than the shoe boxes they ( Read more... )

 Words, sharp as needles, stick out of my memory. No recollections, just general impressions of overwhelming misery fog up whatever shreds of my consciousness have come alive in the brightness of the morning that stubbornly and insensitively decided to follow that travesty of a night.

My eyes, still sealed together with the refusal to cry any ( Read more... )

 I walk along the passages of the years passed and nostalgia stalks me behind every corner of recollection. The alleys are wearing down, the paint on the walls chipping, little stones becoming dislodged and turning into fine dust beneath my feet. The traps full of tears that all my past heartbreaks are setting up for me seem artless now. I avoid ( Read more... )

 I stand in front of the mirror and stare. I do this often. I scan my face and my body for signs of maturity that is bound to come some day, but somehow with me, unlike all my classmates, it is taking its time. While other girls are filling out their semi sheer blouses with their newly grown breasts, gently placing their prized possessions back ( Read more... )

 There is something about the smell of freshly mowed grass that makes me interminably happy and makes me revert to the times when finding a jar big enough for all the fireflies I had caught and finding just the right flowers: daisies and cornflowers, to make wreaths out of were among my biggest problems.  In those days I never stopped to consider ( Read more... )

I have a weakness for angel food cake with yellow frosting with pink roses on it. Not that I’ve had cake nearly that good ever since June 14th, 1980-something. I was little then and could easily march right under the table, which was my preferred hiding spot from monsters and my parents’ wrath. In those days one of the biggest joys was spending ( Read more... )

This story is a cliche, starting with the two of them best friends and me: a naive wide-eyed girl eager for adventure and excitement ( Read more... )

Collapsing into a heystack after running around the field chasing dragonflies and giggling like crazy, daisies bobbing in my head.  The air smelled of hey and autumn then.  I was careless and free and so light I could fly.  We stayed up late by the fire and listened to the cricket and frog chorus.  I think that was about 15 years ago ( Read more... )

From the outside it must have looked like a perfect family portrait: children, mothers, fathers, aunts, and uncles lounging in front of the television set in a brightly lit living room.  What didn't fit into the idyllic picture were  the tense facial expressions on the faces of the adults.  The anxiety spread itself out even to the children: we sat ( Read more... )

I have a big love for all things sweet: candy, cookies, cakes, and soda. Left to my own devices I eat like a 5 year old who has just discovered freedom. Today I dined on waffles and hot cocoa, and for some reason I started craving tarragon soda ( Read more... )