there was a purple hairbrush with black bristles, a blue/green bedspread with tassals on the edges, the coolness of the kitchen floor against my cheek as i lay looking out the back door at a tree devoid of leaves. i don't know why i was laying on the floor. the lights weren't on in the kitchen. i could draw a picture of that tree, it's so clear. i was younger than 3, that much i know for sure.
the whispery and softly focused images of a baby's memory.
but that's all. just those 3 or 4 things.
in the beginning, indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment