An excerpt from the latest post: "I spent the first seven years of my life in Los
Angeles, in a little gray house on a tree-lined street called Cantaloupe
Avenue. My memories of living there are hazy, dreamlike…there were rose bushes
that lined our driveway (I’d rip the petals off and run them over with my bike,
thinking that, surely, this was how perfume was made), and a mishmash of flora
in the garden. Potted plants lined the front porch. One, my favorite, was a
single pink flower in a tiny terracotta dish. Oddly enough, I remember this
flower more vividly than most other physical details about that house, though
its tenure on the porch couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of weeks. After
having admired its impeccable posture, the elegant draping of its petals, and
that irresistible rosy flush for what seemed like an eternity, I couldn’t help
myself. I picked it."
Read the rest on the Equals Record, here. You can find past entries from my weekly column, Looking Forward (about the ups and downs of "growing up" in my twenties), here. Thank you so, so much for reading, as always.
Top photo from last year's tree-trimming party. Bottom image via Confetti Garden.
What a beautiful piece, Shoko. I used to pick lilacs from our neighbors home to give to my Mom and I distinctly remember the sit-down we had to have about that one :) It's hard to understand why you can't just pick something pretty and share when you're that age.
ReplyDeleteLoved reading your post. There is something very honest about the way you describe things!
ReplyDeletethis is brilliant. again and again you find ways to write simply and beautifully.
ReplyDeleteThank you, guys!
ReplyDeleteNicole, that's so cute! I love that :)