Tag: Memories
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For a dear and special friend — who steadied the moment, translated the chaos, and answered the phone as if she’d been waiting for it. I’d been living in Silesia for only a few weeks, and it was the first time I felt truly out of place — I was tired that night. A bit…
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I often thought of Jeanette Winterson’s novel Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit — except for me, they were.
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Half-awake most mornings, I found myself wondering whether they ever swapped places just to confuse the guests.
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… but why buy a watch that says POLICE?”
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Sometimes a memory returns the way snowfall does — quietly, without urgency, settling only where it’s welcome.
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I heard myself ask, quietly, “Is that the radio station?”
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As an adult, acquiring cherries meant a small supermarket punnet during a brief British season. Here, they were abundance itself. Even the family pet, a huge but gentle Bernese Mountain Dog, spent its afternoons beneath the tree eating windfalls as they fell. I casually mentioned to my friend that I adored cherries, a rare treat,…
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There are photographs of that moment somewhere — me standing stiffly, wearing a jacket that didn’t quite fit, a hat with a huge feather denoting a rank I didn’t yet understand, and holding a real ceremonial sword.
