Every time you see me your thoughts drift to years past.
Big holidays.
Walks in the woods.
Hot pink.
Cold celery and carrot sticks.
Scrap paper and crayons in the hall closet.
The way she sometimes smelled like white wine and crisp apples.
"Oh, look at those darling little Chickadees at the feeder" she would say.
"Look at those darling Chickadees at the feeder" you say.
No one hears you but me. And maybe Nana.
what a lovely thought. Dear Eleanor -
ReplyDeleteLovely Nana. Lovely thoughts. I liked it better when she was around. Xo
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