Tuesday, January 18, 2011
I Still Remember
I might have.
Yesterday, I spent time with my family, all of them; my father told me a story from when I was three. I am surprised I remembered. He had found this dove (I used the word because it's poetic) in his car trunk, long long ago when he was doing his PhD. He fed her and took care of her, he would feed her every morning before he started studying and the quality time we would spend with him (my sister was 36 months at the time) was when he would let the dove fly across the street and come back to stand on his shoulder. I remember the exact moment.
I remember it...and that is probably the earliest memory I have of my father.
No, I did not forget.
"There's someone who paints the sky, with their eyes, each day, every way.” I Wrote This For You
I want to paint the sky, with the colours of the sunset, and those of the sunrise. I want to watch them paint the sky, at least. I miss watching the sky change its colors, and I miss having all the changes reflect on the sea.
Do I envy you? I guess I do.
I want to read again, and write again, I want to sit in a garden and laugh so loud, so much that my head hurts.