or touches me in a way that reminds me why we're all out here.
One of the recent "Oh, I'm so glad I read this!" posts was over at (surprise) (again) Woman in a Window' s place, with Reverential Dwarf.
It gave me reason to reflect on the people who have passed through my life, maybe just briefly, but who really need to be credited with a little of what makes me, me.
The most predominate memory for me today is of the woman who would let me sit at the bar in that small desert town that was baking in the sun (before laws said 6 year-old children couldn't sit at the bar) eating her maraschino cherries (regardless of the formaldehyde stories attached to their sticky wonderfulness) while my dad drank icy cold Budweiser from a can.
The inside of her home was orange. The brightest orange walls you ever saw and I was enraptured by the boldness. I had never seen such a color anywhere other than in an LA diner where we quickly inhaled our greasy eggs and bacon before retrieving my runaway sister from the juvey detention center. I use bold colors on my walls now.
My first spanish words were spoken in her home. "Uno Blanco Lobo" was her dog's name (and I'm pretty sure the adjective was in the wrong place, but who am I to say what someone names their dog?).
Her name was Neva and she made up one part of the timeline that was my childhood-- her children made up many more (it was her son, Larry who crushed the Christmas "Jolly Elf" myth and ruined the surprise of a bicycle waiting under the tree).
It's like that Orange commercial...
oh, go ahead, watch it and then tell me...
...who from your past or present popped into your mind?
Share,
you know you want to.
