Today I thought I would share some long lost pieces of writing that I haven’t shared before. I spent a lot of today working on changing the theme and layout of my website in the hopes of making it both easier to navigate and more pleasant to read. Hopefully I’m moving in the right direction. Since this took up a lot of my time I decided to pull a few unfinished pieces from the vault and share them! One is a small reflection on a childhood memory of a snowy evening. The second is a poem inspired by summer days spent at a lakeside cabin. The last is a micro-story with a twist involving a love I discovered in my college days. I hope you enjoy this tantalizing mini-buffet of fiction.
Memories of Snow
The streetlights shine like small suns, pooling in patches on the packed street snow. I’m bundled in a waterproof snow outfit; the kind that makes a shushing sound as you move your arms around. The polyester fabric’s slick friction creating lightning static. I’m sitting on a wooden Radio Flyer sled, watching my parents backs as we glide down the snow packed street. The deep bumpy ruts, created by the daytime cars, catch the shadows. Fresh snow begins to fall, sparkling starlight crystals. The warm light of the street lamps like stage lights for the snowflakes choreographed performance. The audience hushed in awe. The whole world is holding its breath and the moment stretches on, as long as a childhood street at the end of a suburban neighborhood.
Orange Juice
Reminds me of the time
I slipped away
With flip-flopped feet
Up the crackled path
And through the cabin door
To sneak a glass of juice.
The rooster on the wall and I
Shared a smile of camaraderie.
I drank that golden nectar in gulps
to quench a thirst
That at that age
never seemed to end.
We were the only ones
in the cozy cabin
That rooster and I.
Listening to the faded laughter
And snap cracks from the campfire
Down at the beach.
We were alone but
I wasn’t lonely.
The One That Got Away
Even after all this time I can’t stop thinking about that night. I wouldn’t have even been there if it wasn’t for a Spanish class assignment. I remember walking into the Hispanic Cultural Building, surrounded by so many people, and wishing I could just go back home. I took a deep breath and made a deal with myself: I only had to stay through the first part of the Dia de los Muertos film and I could leave. Surely that would be enough experience to write my paper. I didn’t know I would meet you.
You were what made me stay. I had wanted to leave, but after I found you, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting more. When everyone was paying attention to the movie, all I could focus on was you. You were warm against my lips, the sweet taste of cinnamon on my tongue. I hid with you in the back, near the treats laid out on the tables. Your heat under my fingers warmed my whole body.
It’s years later, I’m married now, and I still think of you on crisp fall nights. To taste you again. To feel your warmth against my palms. I wonder sometimes if I could use the internet to find you. I don’t know if I would recognize you if I tried. We only had that one night together and I can’t get you off my mind. What if I did find you? Maybe it wouldn’t be the same. Sometimes I think the memory of the best Mexican hot chocolate you’ve ever had could never be recreated. But then I also think, maybe one of these fall nights I’ll try.
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