lystn

Sometimes a story buzzes around in my head for a while before I am able to get it right — this is certainly the case with my story for today. I like to ask people what their first memories are of. For some people it's just a fleeting impression and for others it is in amazing clarity with lots of details. Christine’s first memory was a flood of orange juice. The cascading fall of it as it slipped out of her grasp and spread into a large puddle in front of the fridge, the pulpy bits lodging themselves between her toes. Why mom kept it in that glass pitcher, she never thought to ask. Her mother was the one who found Christine standing in the juice puddle, and she lifted her onto the sink counter to wash her ankles and toes with warm water. Listen to A Brilliant Shade of Blue. And tell me what you would think about if you had the time to sit still with your own thoughts. That’s my story. Tell me one of yours.