She sits on the floor near the window in her studio, sipping coffee and leafing through Sabrina Ward Harrison's
latest treasure. The weight of the crisp pages as they turn beneath
her fingers makes the music of her early rising. She runs her hand
gently over the surface admiring the tooth. It reminds her of cotton
and a memory of a summer long ago...of her grandfather's pajama shirt,
of her grandmother's faded bandana softened with age. She lifts her
coffee mug to greet a neighbor walking her dog, then lifts the book in
the air like a blessing. Her neighbor squints, smiles, then continues
on her way. Much said without words.
Labels: We do not remember days, we remember moments.