November 17, 2009



When we were little girls we would drape ourselves in grandmas silky scarves and build pillow forts between the couches. Because she was my big sister, by 4 years, Heather always was the leader in such important projects, and I, a fearless defender of her every breathing word. Her ideas exceeded the number of pillows available in our household, but after several hours and a multitude of compromises we'd have ourselves a fine looking structure, suitable for a story book princess.

To celebrate our labors properly we'd perform a ceremonious dance around the fabric fortress that must have looked something like butterflies taking flight. We spun in circles and fluttered our silky extensions half expecting to catch a gust of wind and take off in the summer sky like a pair of tethered kites. After exhausting ourselves we'd burrow inside the billowy mound and lay as flat and still as young children can. We'd stare up at the cracks where pillow and sunlight met and I remember as clear as day, my amazement with the yellow light as it crept through gaps painting geometrical light patterns across my tiny body. I'd spend hours tracing their flickering outlines with my pointer finger and we'd giggle to each other over how something invisible could cover us so beautifully, like a golden bandage.

{Canon ae-1. 400 35mm film}


  1. Such beautiful memories and such wonderful words. Keep them safe so you don't lose them.

  2. i love those teacups! is this a shop some place?

  3. It's actually an antique store near my house.