“Visualize a place that you really love, be there, see the details. Now write about it. It could be a corner of your bedroom, an old tree you sat under one whole summer, a table at McDonald’s in your neighborhood, a place by a river. What colors are there, sounds, smells? When someone else reads it, she should know what it is like to be there. She should feel how you love it, not by your saying you love it, but by your handling of the details” (Goldberg 20-21).
I digress from the prompt…
Alaska, Arizona, & Mongolia skies filled with clouds.
The Colonial pictures & flowered wallpaper in my Grandmother's old kitchen.
Bordering Mexican tiles, piled on the side of a street.
Baker's dog tag clinking as he runs.
Water lapping onto shore while the tide comes in.
Johnny Winter singing “Be Careful With a Fool.”
Tundra blueberries - as sweet as the sunny day they were picked.
Metal camping cups filled with coco & coffee, on a brisk morning – readying for a day of hiking.
Blue corn muffins with hot soup.
The down blanket nestled under my chin on a cold night.
Soft clothes next to a baby's skin.
Silky Forget-me-not flower pedals.
Blue does help me remember.
Safely supporting me,
In light or dark,
White toaster oven
Warming thin toast & cheese
In Grandma’s kitchen
Warm pine sap always
Sticks to my hands when climbing
To my vantage point
The scent of pine is immediate, especially on warm days.
Stickiness binds my skin to the rutted and course sheath.
My skin separates from the bark as I climb, but the film binds, even for days after.
It gets on my clothes and makes my shoes adhere as I walk in the house.
*shhhrriippp* *shhhrriippp* *shhhrriippp* *shhhrriippp* *shhhrriippp*
All are reminders of the feeling of independence. The pleasure of studying the life that continues whether I’m watching or not.
One of my favorite places -