Where I Was From

Oh my my my

Theraflu is the culprit, I hope. Why else would I have woken up around three remembering when I lived downtown and someone left a grocery bag full of A-cup bras on my door handle? Did they intend it as an insult? Isn't there some way I can use the incident in a story? And late in the morning, where did those dreams come from? A family walk at the beach led to ice caves in the hills, where we skated in our shoes through tunnels that led to an abandoned subway station where the skeleton of a horse was frozen into a wall of ice. We visited my favorite childhood home, reaching not only the location but the time when we'd lived there, so all our things were still there. We were delighted and set to robbing ourselves with no clear idea how to bring our treasures back with us through time. You can't rob history. Otherwise, we'd all have a lot of amazing hats.

Labels: memoir

posted by Leah @ 2:17 PM