[Daughters of the Revolution dress + Yoox cropped contour sweater (Anthro) + Kors boots + vintage Squash blossom necklace.]
So here I am sitting on the porch. Feeling present. There’s a crew of guys repairing a roof from Irene across the way, tree tops are looking a little singed with fall colors, the downy furs of Eli’s elbows are blowing in the breeze, and I’m picking silver polish out of my hair. And I’m aware that I have virtually nothing to worry me for the next 4 and a half hours.
And all of a sudden, my antenna go up. Lots of sensations. I’ve got a leg over the railing; it’s breezy, but in an ambiguous way. Is it winter in New Orleans? Summer in Saint Petersburg? It’s sunny, but with long shadows in a late afternoon way ,considering it’s only 1pm. I could be anyone, anywhere, any time of year.
It’s that curious outside right now.
[Layering is the name of the game this year. And this sweater is key, with its strange hemline.]
I’ve been watching this one tree across the street succumbing to the cooler temperatures. More notable than the thinning out of her foliage and shift from yellow to orange—how I’m able to track my moods against the times we spend in each other’s company.
And when I think about it that way, I guess I’m superimposing myself on a situation that has really nothing to do with me.
I’m pretty sure that’s how memories are made.