I remember the smell of fresh baked bread straight from the oven. Pulled gently apart, steam rising with its scent of deep health, yeast and a joyful abundant earth.
I remember the taste of Trident peppermint gum. Chewed vigourously and with style, each clench of teeth upon teeth releases another spurt of peppermint freshness until, no more but a whisper remains.
I remember the sound of a cool breeze in an open window bringing with it the laughter of trees and chatterings of water.
I remember the sight of a butterfly flapping its wings in grace, its detachment and delight leaving a trail of pretty rainbow light.
I remember the touch of a teddy bear, white and soft and always there for a youth in momentary despair.
Exercise: Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses. [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]
I remember the sweet crunch of a chicklet, the sugary coating giving way to the gum inside, the crunchiness becoming enfolded, enveloped, and eventually absorbed by the chewing gum, until finally, only the sweet elasticity remained, it's flavour fading...
Sorry I've been so scarce. You're in my thoughts, really, but I've been so...I don't know...scattered, unfocussed. I need to be internal a while longer, I think.
Posted by: Melissa | January 16, 2006 at 06:52 PM