October 12, 2004 ~ What Brings to Mind
Tuesday.
Falling stars.
Dying embers.
The smell of a bamboo flute warmed by breath--Bansuri.
Beard brushing my cheek.
Shantih shantih shantih (what the thunder said).
...Morgan
Fabric stores, with the rainbows of bolts, the smell of new cotton.
Peppermint tea, with fresh leaves.
Estee Lauder's "White Linen" perfume.
Quilts, needlecraft, and dainty beaded things.
The whir of a sewing machine.
...Mother.
The smell of sawdust.
The Tori Amos song, "Winter."
Bringing a camera to my eye.
The pitch black dark of a cave.
Driving fast.
...Father
The beach, salt in the air.
Flea markets, thrift stores, and yard sales.
Colored pencils.
Shapes in clouds.
Stopping for ice cream.
...Grandma
Arrowheads and pottery shards.
Harry Chapin songs.
Sudden light in the dark or warmth in the cold.
The heady, musky smell of large, furred animals.
Sunrises and sunsets (also: counting birds).
...Grouse
"I'm sorry, so so sorry, I might cry..."
Freckles.
An air humidifier (when we almost lost you).
Bunk beds.
Cloth diapers and safety pins with the yellow plastic duck.
...Sister
Legos.
Rhododendrons (the forts we built behind them).
Taste of blood in my mouth.
Sprinklers in summer.
Badminton.
...Brother
Ink line drawings.
Arguments about grammar.
Smell of a newspaper fresh off the press.
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
Red and white checkered picnic blankets.
...High school friends.
The scent of pine and fir.
Snow-capped mountains.
Open-air markets.
Light-rail trains.
Rain.
...Portland, Oregon
Working through the night.
One tiny dorm bed (for two adults to share).
Reading for hours and hours and hours straight.
The flash of insight that comes with a killer thesis.
Dragon's Blood and Nag Champa incense.
...College
This has been a WordGoddess collaboration: "ten lists of five."
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