I'm just a potato trying to become the best vodka I can be. My writing has no purpose. When I write, I write what is on my mind at the time. Some days I can write something funny and sweet, and others I would write something dark.
Memories of Us
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked. I smirked at the small person sitting in front of me. I sat across from him to seem less big. He gets nervous around adults. I choose my words carefully, but before I am able to say anything, there is a crash or thunder around us. He scoots under the bed for safety. My smirk becomes a small smile. I reach for a tiny hand. He practically broke off my fingers in fear of the noise. I was amazed how noise could scare someone under the bed.
It was an unnecessarily hot Tuesday afternoon. I was babysitting my little brother. Well, my little brother was playing and I was doing other things. One would think that a family with an in-ground pool would have AC, but no, we had fans. My brother ran around the house happily chasing around the kittens.
Ordinary Tune There was one room he was not allowed to go into when he would return home from school. He went to a boarding school in Brighton, United Kingdom. It was called Brighton College, of course. Nothing fancy or original (just like everything in his young life), just a school full of children sent to get out of their parents' way. Savon spent seven years away from his ancient family home, only returning during breaks from school. This room he was never allowed to go in became the obsession of his curiosity. So, one day he snuck in while his father was away on a business trip. He was surprised to find a black grand piano in the center. Checking for any servants, he continued into the room, closing the door soundlessly behind him.
Summer Camp Blues
The Chicago Park District is where I learned everything I needed to learn. I learned I had allergies. I learned I hate sunshine and fresh air. And I learned I love to play kickball. I had my first real pre-teen kiss in the park. I cannot remember the person, but I remember I was shocked and it was very awkward. We all have our experiences with childhood hilarity and drama. Mostly drama.
Kiss of Colors
Since I was forced from my mother's body (damaging her beyond repair she claims every year on my birthday), I had always loved colors. Every year my favorite colors will switch between greens, blues and purples. Even at the tender age of twenty plus years old, I still cannot decide what color is my favorite. Colors are not just little lights dancing in front of us. They are tools to help retain information, memories and emotions. Colors are not just about the rainbow, but in personality and in skin. Color means more than just lights. For years my journey in finding a favorite color has come to a standstill. My new goal is to find a color that I can call my own favorite like normal people.