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Category: Looking and Looking Again

Part 7

Part 7

She was young. Not even 50 yet. Maybe not even 40. She had crazy long blonde hair that fell to her waist. Her eyes were blue and warm. Her glasses were all different forms of funky, the lenses ranged from pink to purple. And she had a smile that warmed your heart. And I didn’t know her for long. But she is part of the reason, I am the way I am. This woman, I know she’s important to me….

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Part 6

Part 6

It’s quiet out. I can only see from the light of the porch. And of the soft glow seeping out from the screen door. It’s quiet inside the cabin. Only the chirps of crickets and other bugs can be heard tonight. Pine needles litter the forest floor, turning it orange. It’s cool out. I’m snuggled up against my aunt. On the other side of her is my sister. In a clear crisp voice, my aunt breaks the silence of the…

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Part 5

Part 5

How times have changed. Nowadays, one book isn’t worth much. A decade ago, they had alarm systems in the library and an overdue book was no laughing matter. Now, the only books that matter are the ones that you treasure. For some people that means the book itself, and for others it is the content of the books. Personally, it’s a little bit of both. Looking at a cover, I can recall most of the details of any story that…

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Part 4

Part 4

“What do you mean, I was only 3 or 4 years old?” I could have sworn that I was older. In the pictures, I thought I was older. No wonder the memories escape me. It was 15 years ago that I went there. Strange how that seems like it should be nothing looking back. Experiencing it though, it feels like an eternity. 15 years ago. I was sitting out on a tiny porch with my aunt and my sister, reading…

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Part 3

Part 3

Writing it down, over and over again. There is no end to it. It just keeps on going. Close your eyes. Look back in your mind. See it. Capture it. Try to remember. I can’t though. Trying to think about my sister who I know was there. Yet I can’t remember anything about her at that moment. Was she looking at the pages? Or was she staring off into the distance? Were her eyes closed? This is one moment that…

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Part 2

Part 2

What is there to say? The bugs that hung around the lights were big and tiny. Most of them were moths that just fluttered around harmlessly. None of them came near us. We were sitting curled up together in a position that allowed all of us a glimpse at the pages, at the words that covered them. IT was a warm night, not cold enough for a blanket but not warm enough to be left out in shorts. We were…

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On Looking and Looking Again… part 1

On Looking and Looking Again… part 1

There it is again. The soft murmur of words. Being read over and over again. Maybe they have meaning. Maybe they don’t. I don’t know. I stopped listening to the words as a whole a long time ago. Now they just rush over me and recede, like waves. The quiet tide of her voice, soothes me. My sister is staring at the pages too. But she isn’t speaking, her eyes are glazed over. She’s listening. More than that, she’s hearing….

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