...I just realized everything I have is someday gonna be gone...
What defines
my life
I think.The moments as a child that come to mind when I am a grown-up thinking
Memories, stuck, that have molded me
Like Granny’s house and my home in the other country a long time ago when I was too young and the uncle’s farm in Africa when I was too young to know that country (people always think they do and they are always wrong) the way I want to know it now
When I was young and restless and eager to leave
I did leave and I came here
And I lived and things happened to shape me
And I’m trying to think of what they are
The pictures
That made me who I am
And I think there should be more
I can’t think of any now
They’re all there and I can’t explain because I can’t attach plain words to them
I would annoy you if the words weren’t plain
Stupid words annoy me too
So I’m trying to think in pictures but they aren’t coming
I know I think I should be able to write my story
It’s there like I’m one-hundred and I could tell you right now if only I took the time
I take the time and the pictures flit away before I can think of enough words to tack them in place
They’re not ready
I think that’s why they don’t come forward
Because they know I’m not done yet
They know I’m only ten plus eight
Nine plus nine
Twenty minus two
Only I don’t know it
Maybe I must wait until
I am one-hundred
and life is spent, now running on fumes, satisfied and colorful like a thousand pictures snapped only my camera’s broken and my inspiration dissolved and I’m too crinkly to find something new I’ll look at the pictures
I’ll smile and pick up my pen and copy down the words I see in them
The color and the black and white
I’ll organize them and sort them into order and study them for a day and a night
Peg them on a line above my writing desk
And I’ll write them all
But now I
must go to bed
and live another day[This is a writing excersise of sorts and thoughts and impressions that run through my brain quite often. I decided to try my hand at writing them down. I don't know if I did.]
"Memories, stuck, that have molded me...
ReplyDeleteI lived and things happened to shape me
And I’m trying to think of what they are
The pictures
That made me who I am"
I know what you're talking about. I hope they come to you and you write them. I remember the pictures from Africa tacked up on your wall. I remember curling up in my sleeping bag with Tasha and hearing stories about a place far away. I remember sitting on the floor looking through the boxes of pictures. Asking questions. Faces you gave names and stories to. It was fascinating.
I was just thinking about this; being at your house recently and seeing some of the things, toys, etc. you brought with you. Made me think of what a different life it was back then and how it is now. A different life, yet what shaped you...
I love the dandelion pictures. So much.
~Bree
Thanks for your commet, Mollie, and your memories. (and you'll be part of my stories if I write them one day)
ReplyDeleteHehe, I thought of you when I put those pictures up :-)
<3