A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.

Posts tagged “Memories

The First Memory

Box of memories, the first memory

Box of memories, the first memory

The memory fades away with every breath breathed in its direction. The very act of recalling the memory destroys it piece by piece as though my mind attempts to chisel itself away. However, instead of an uncovered work of art from polished marble, I’m left with the rough sections of jagged rock lying in ruins. The memory – or was it a dream? – is now left alone upon the realization of this fact of degradation. It’s kept haphazardly locked away in a mind constantly trying to shove more memories into the very limited space of matter. (more…)


What’s Woven Into The Fog

fog, foggy mist

fog, foggy mist

I opened my door one morning to a vaguely thick layer of frigid gray fog. My charcoal-colored car, which was parked out front, barely emerged from the winter-like surroundings. I thought to myself that it hadn’t been this foggy this far inland in a while.

As I made my way down my apartment steps towards my car, a felt a small smile creep onto my face. It felt like it was now officially autumn, and not what felt like the perpetual summer, with brief pauses that allowed a chilly breeze, that most Southern Californians were accustomed to experiencing. I didn’t want to jinx it by grabbing a jacket, but I did think about all the sweaters I could now break out of the small “winter” section of my closet. (more…)


Dirty Windshields

clouds sunset and crops in the country

clouds sunset and crops in the country

The deep orange and warm yellow light from the setting sun seeps into the car through a thin sheet of lightly tanned dust that is gently layered over the windshield. I calmly gaze out beyond the sea of slowly moving vehicles that are stuck in traffic to the horizon. The subtle bits of grime and dust wouldn’t have been as noticeable if it wasn’t for the incandescent rays from the falling orb in the sky, but I find the messy view comforting.

It’s this image of the dusty windshield that steals away my thoughts and brings me back to older times. I’m reminded of long drives in pickup trucks along the dusty back roads that are nestled in between fields of growing crops out in the country. I can easily hear conversations and sing-alongs to classic country songs with my best friend as I soak in the similarly warm glimmers of a sunset that finds its way through the dusty windshield. (more…)


The Breath of Summer

Writing about summer.

Writing about summer.I took a breath as I stepped out into the light. A familiar scent of dust covered asphalt gently baking like a sheet of homemade cookies in an oven brushed by me as I began to exhale. The subtle scent would sit on the tip of my nostrils as I walked to my car that was strategically parked under the eve of a nearby building’s roof. I felt a heaviness in the air as I sifted through the barely noticeable light summer breeze. It was undoubtedly warm outside, and the thermometer I saw, after I finally climbed into my car and turned on the engine, indicated that it was steadily growing warmer. (more…)


Under the Twirling Strobe Lights

I looked around the dance floor at the wildly flailing 20-somethings vibrantly moving and singing to the Katy Perry song that was blaring through the nearby speakers. High heels had already been thrown alongside the venue’s walls where flowers and table decorations had fell during the enthusiastic celebration. Among the faces of young adults spotlighted in yellow lights was a group of people who I had come to know over the course of 10 years. I laughed as we brought back terrible dance moves that no sane person would attempt in public.

“I think I’m bringing back the shopping cart, you guys,” I said raising my hand from the imaginary shopping cart to grab the invisible grocery product. I managed to carefully place the product in the cart.

A friend who was happily twisting her hips in the washing machine motion had screamed. “Ah! Prom!” (more…)