carry all

The past is never far away when you carry it with you

like the mountains of Colorado

or the smell of my grandfather's desk

or holding my best friend's daughters for the first time

or bowing while receiving my degree

or playing man hunt (three versions)

or our first kiss at 12th Avenue and Sherman Street

or realizing I can play a "boys' sports"

or being swung by my parents' hands while walking through a parking lot

or making up "It happened on Alpine Place"

or buying my first car and feeling like a "real" adult

or dancing to mad, crazy industrial beats 'till 4 a.m.

and each day is an opportunity to create more wondrous "past" to carry in my satchel

marigolds

marigolds
Originally uploaded by misslissa13

When I smell marigolds
I travel back
to my parents' backyard
where my mother planted
the yellow-orange-red flowers

the colors drew me in
I lingered in the scent,
clean and sweet

They were planted in the narrow bed
near the swimming pool fence
I remember how I couldn't wait
for the flowers to dry
and go to seed
so I could dislodge the clump of seeds
roll them between my then small fingers
and watch then fall to the soil
one
by
one

once upon a time..

Once upon a time..
Originally uploaded by misslissa13

When I was seven.....

My parents' unfinished basement holds a lot of memories including the side of the stairway. Our pencil sharpener is fastened to the side and those sharp pencils and clean "canvas" tempted us to tag on occasion. Many years back, my mother wanted to repaint the stairs, so I asked if she can leave the side "as is".

And, yes, I was called Missy until Junior High School when I became much too "sophisticated" for a nickname so "young sounding".