6:29 p.m. - Friday, Jul. 29, 2011
To Whom It May Concern
I remember skin browned by the tea-stained waves of cedar water.
I remember tree stumps that offered themselves up as horses in our wild imaginations.
I remember peanut butter and jelly breaks on summer afternoons, on the deck that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean.
I remember the pink petals of the cherry tree in May, raining down around me on my walks home from school.
I remember the smell of incense burning in the church on First Friday.
I remember the intense emotion I felt as my voice joined with the voices of many.
I remember sitting on the banks of the Monocacy, studying music theory.
I remember the snow falling on my cheeks as I listened to the brass choir playing carols from the bell tower of the Old Moravian Church.
I remember the smell of fresh, warm laundry and dinner cooking on my walks home from work.
I remember peace here.
I am grateful for these moments in time. I have had a lovely life. I have loved the people in it. I was lucky to have been born in this time and place. I was lucky to have been here.
Now reconcile the fact that I would give it away, if I could. Why this feeling? Why now?
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