The Memory Stream

Long ago. Throwing a baseball in North Carolina summer listening to a boom box. Sleeping curled next to a fire amid the pregnant lush of Nantahala. Thimbleberries. Napping under pines in Idyllwild, waking to boulder until sunset. The stillness of Potomac herons and the gleaming floors of Congressional offices. The crunch of bicycle tires on gravel, grinding towards cornfield horizons in summer Iowa. Writing love songs as the marine layer burns away in Santa Barbara. The tang of redwood sorrel, the story of the field mice and the Douglas Fir. The golden plumes of sunset dust at the base of the toothed cliffs of Smith Rock. My Geo Metro in LA with a longboard on the way to Baja. The rough texture of baguette and saucisson while hiking in the Pyrenees. The blue curtain of thunderstorm rain while climbing limestone towers over the Andaman Sea. The way a motorcycle smoothes the rutted dirt roads of Crete. Storming the castle walls in Sintra. The wind and rattlesnakes of Wild Iris. Feeling the waves move me and my spear with the fish at Punta Perfecta. Kids debating parabolas on the last day of school in La Jolla. Seeing my niece and nephews play wave tag at Emerald Isle. Today.