Writing Me is Bigger Picture Blogs series of writing exercises created to help our community dive deeper into writing, grow creatively, and learn about ourselves and each other. This quarter we are writing from the prompt “I Remember…” and each week we will feature one of our community members.
This weeks post comes to us from Corinne.
I remember a blue sky with puffy white clouds, and rainbows. Rainbow brite, and wallpaper that spelled R A I N B O W in red, orange, yellow, green blue, indigo and violet block letters. Not a rain cloud or drop in sight.
I remember the houses on Yvonne Street, Pine Road, Winnacunnet Road, Boars Head, Carlton Drive. I remember rooms and bookcases. I remember yellow. Backyards and swingsets. A sandbox and dark woods.
I remember living across the street from Prescott Park, and hearing the summer plays four nights a week from my bedroom. The shrill voices. The dramatic songs. Tea for two and two for tea…
I remember the dining room table always being filled with love; the central location for our homeschool… it caught on fire once. I remember science experiments and penmanship. The 5″ by 7″ algebra book with pages so thin I feared ripping one with each turn. I remember the blue cover.
I remember writing stories in a notebook filled with pink college ruled paper, filling fabric covered journals from cover to cover with scribbles and dreams and daily events.
I remember family dinners and birthday dinners and celebratory lunches all at home. Homemade cakes. Green mashed potatoes on St. Patrick’s Day. Sewn by mama Easter dresses. I remember hand crafted dolls on birthdays, agonizing over choosing a favorite birthday dinner, the excitement of not being on dish duty. I remember every Christmas. The anticipation, counting the minutes, watching the clock, finally succumbing to a light slumber. I remember Christmas cookies in snowman covered tins, enough to tide us over until well past the new year.
I remember hot cocoa and oatmeal raisin cookies on a snow day. A hand knit sweater. My mama working the snow blower like a pro. Her red cheeks, concentration, and big smile.
I remember being little enough to not have a care in the world. I remember the feeling of falling asleep freshly bathed on a hot summer night, and flannel sheets in the dead of winter. The softness warming me from the outside in. My special blanket always held close, winter or summer. I remember warmth.
I remember feeling safe. And loved.
I remember feeling a net below me and possibilities above.
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