girlier or sillier

something.

the story?

this past weekend a memory hit me clear as blazes.

i'm me, but younger (of course, it's a memory, hell0...) in bloomers and a chemise. my corset, underskirt, hoop, bumroll, overskirt, bodice - all balled up somwhere, maybe in a pile next to me, maybe not. i know that i have my hat (my gloves are in it, it is not on my head) and probably some other bits with me. the sun is setting - or possibly has set - the sky is darkening and the air is cooling - considerably. i sit in the dampening grass on the top of a hill - there are earthy smells all around me. across from me is a friend, a girl, an angel of a girl complete with golden hair and glowing rosy cheeks. her name is Kim, but to me she is Soya, and will always be.. she makes me laugh and we half giggle with each other throughout the conversation. i can feel the distinct difference, now, between the cool earth beneath me and the heat of my skin (i spent the day walking in the hot sun, carting probably 40 pounds of costume and accessory, making people happy, feeding them the fodder of thoughts like I am having right now). beside me, a boy. a young man. burgeoning. at the onset of the ripeness of his manlihood. for now, though, he is a young man, a gentleman. his name is Patrick - i'm almost certain of it, but memory is wicked deceptive... i could be wrong. he is full of whispers and caresses. in my memory i know his hand on my shoulder, or, perhaps, his arm around my waist. i know he wants to kiss me - - the pity is that I don't remember if he did.

it's a movie - moment, this memory. it's the kind of thing that helps me remember the prettiness of my history. it's the kind of thing I want to share with my daughter when she tells me about hers.