i remember when i learned my first swear. it was at the butterfly park.
i remember when my orange tree was the tallest thing in the world.
i remember the first time i cracked my head open. my brother hit me with a bat.
i remember the time when i first realized that i liked being an artist.
i remember the first time i saw my dad cry. i was sitting on my grandmothers wool rug.
i remember when i thought i could never get sunburned.
i remember when i thought i had super powers.
i remember walking with my mother to pick up pine cones from my favorite climbing tree that was chopped down. that was the first loss i ever experienced.
i remember wearing matching outfits with my siblings to every theme park.
i remember when my house was alive. now it creaks, not from footsteps, but the absence of footsteps. it reminds me how empty it is here.
i remember the sweet smell of the sequoia trees at Yosemite. you could smell it from miles away, before you even entered the forest.
i remember when i pushed my dog down the swirly slide.
i remember my dad teaching me how to whistle.
i remember spending hours at the clubhouse in the attic. we found the coolest things up there.
i remember how i felt when i moved away from California.
i remember spending hours at the clubhouse in the attic. we found the coolest things up there.
i remember when i was happy.
i wish i could stop this and start living.
