Impression Memory
Friday, December 30th, 2005“Just put your feet down child. The water is only waist high…”
Like a feather-light smudge of charcoal on white paper: the sky, now. I’m doing laundry, as the year thins down to a trickle of grains. Thinking of gulls at the beach. Feathers and waves. Sand and cloud.
Some time ago, on a foggy wintery day, I lightly pressed my hand into snow. I could feel the texture of the ice beneath my palm and fingertips. The touch left behind an impression. The impression left behind a memory.
Today touches that back.
And blends with the oceanic, soft grays, and the passing of time.