Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Random thought when I should be doing something else

I remember a long ago afternoon when I was allowed to stay home from school. It must have been at the end of the school year, because it was a sunny day in Portland, Oregon—I remember lots of sunny days there, no matter what they say about the rain—and my grandmother took me somewhere I’d been longing to go—that now I remember only as bright colors in a cave, a kind of strange garden, the sort of place that lives in books that were read aloud to you once, long ago, before you understood all the words. We took the bus up a hill and in my mind the city’s stretched out below us, the river like a skein of silver in the distance. We were talking, she and I, about nothing in particular—and how could either of us know that I’d keep the memory of that day, the way it felt to be beyond the reach of ordinary things, folded away so long?

No comments: