Memories
I remember the trees in winter, they are stark and tall. Canadian trees grow like Canadians, solitary but crowded in the middle of big white empty spaces. We build our huts amoung the trees and light our fires. I remember tobaganning and playing tag in the snow. Laughing like there is only this paradise. I remember not knowing the outside world existed, and networks of branches stemming up and crisscrossing and wanting to write it all into words and paint it all into pictures and play it all into notes.
I remember frozen hands and hot mugs of warm tang. I remember the drink we called russian tea, and warming up. Sometimes a drink goes all the way to your toes. Sometimes it's not just a figure of speech.
We could see our speeches and our laughter.
That was 15 years ago. I've learnt to paint it and write it and draw it and play it. I've learned to share it and love it. I've learned that there is a rest of the world, and that paradise is a state of mind.
I've learned that a woman's love can be a beautiful, powerful, healing thing, and that my words and images and music can touch hearts and shape lives.
I remember frozen hands and hot mugs of warm tang. I remember the drink we called russian tea, and warming up. Sometimes a drink goes all the way to your toes. Sometimes it's not just a figure of speech.
We could see our speeches and our laughter.
That was 15 years ago. I've learnt to paint it and write it and draw it and play it. I've learned to share it and love it. I've learned that there is a rest of the world, and that paradise is a state of mind.
I've learned that a woman's love can be a beautiful, powerful, healing thing, and that my words and images and music can touch hearts and shape lives.