Sometimes when I’m walking down the street, or riding in my car, I wish I had my camera. I can already see the picture in my head…how if I tilt the camera just so, the light will reflect off an old building. Or if i zoom in carefully, I can catch the scars on an old woman’s face. My head races with possibilities. What is her story?
It makes me laugh when people tell me they have a photographic memory because I have a photographic mind. Whenever I’m walking down the street I can imagine the picture sitting in a scrapbook somewhere. But the pictures dissapear like fog on a cool morning. I try to hold on to them, but it feels like trying to hold on to water.
I watch two little girls playing on the playground. They wear matching pink frilly dresses. One of them pleads with the other in a whiny voice. “Sara go down the slide! It’s fun, I promise. Just go!” Her voice echoes in my head all day. “Just go! Just go!”. I close my eyes and try to call those girls back into my head.