Some are triggered by song:
Mary J. Blige Can't Be Without You (remix). It's May of 2006 in Firenze. My flatmate, Heather, and I are dancing at Yab, a nightclub near Piazza de Repubblica. We have drinks in hand, filled with something I don't recall. Floor lit from underneath, lights flashing in reds, blues, and whites above us. She's in jeans and a black tank top: A perfect Southern belle. I'm wearing a red dress from Renascimento, a name I only remember because it reminds me of Renaissance, and because I bought it in Rome. It has a "tattered" skirt, small straps, and at this time is easily the most revealing thing I own. White heels. And we are singing to each other, dancing, sweating, and laughing. My first night club.
The Tide by Spill Canvas: Headphones and sand and coconut soy lattes from Small Town Coffee. Danny is swimming at Kealia Beach at sunrise, the water a cold steely color. The sky is all purple and you can't quite tell where it meets the ocean on the horizon. I'm spinning circles in the sand and Robert taps me on the shoulder. "I thought that was you."
Others are just moments:
Jazzy looks into a window of the door to our old Japanese room in high school. A wave, a big smile. And she walks away.
Papa walking in the surf after scattering my grandmother's ashes at her favorite beach.
Blowing out the candles of my 8th birthday cake: 5 layers and a roller coaster on top.
VeggieMama holding me, even as a big girl, and dancing to Tennessee Christmas in the living room.
The smell of UNLV campus in the morning; fresh. I'd say brisk. And unlike the rest of Vegas, still.
My first experience of olive oil and basil: a beach side restaurant in Tuscany.
A morning in the winter of 2008, February, walking out of a building on campus at University of Alaska, Anchorage, and the whole sky looks like bubble gum and cotton candy. About 10:30 in the morning.
MEH, in a blue shirt he can't find anymore, walking out of a bathroom on one of our first dates.
As a writer, these are moments that I have either crafted so carefully that the memory is half memory and half craft. I have to be careful. To share these moments, capture them in all of the smell, sound, texture they own, can turn them from memory into creation. It's the gift of writing and one of the greatest things it can take away from you.
What are your moments?
Mantra of the Day: I am loved and I am safe. I've done this one before. But the memory of it is strong. It is just before full moonrise and the wind on the beach is stinging. And we are all thinking the same thing. And I am no longer afraid to go home now, on the Kalalau Trail. It is a powerful mantra for me because of that and also because it affirms that I know I am loved. I trust the Mama (no, not VeggieMama, but the "ultimate" Mama, the Earth). I trust the Valley. And I trust myself.
Question of Gratitude:Who, or what, are you thankful for today?: I am thankful for Wigga Brother (WB). He leaves soon for college. He is leaving the nest. And I couldn't really be more excited for him. He has been a





just popping in to say hi and thank you for your awesome comments and wish you a great week :)
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