First Draft

I am lucky to have this little lady in my life that has been treating us periodically to an unpublished draft on her blog... I love this idea of the un-posted post making its way to center screen, even as an unfinished thought... Here is my first draft, ready for your insight and depiction... I began writing this on Memorial Day of this year, although, I got lost in where I was headed with the post and once I started thinking about my grandmother, I didn't much feel like writing anymore, more like allowing myself a nice, long cry... Either way, here it is in it's unfinished, raw state... Enjoy.

Memories... Haunting and distant... Clear and precise... Vivid, textural and sensational... Sorrowful and regretful... Joyous and remarkable... Memories run the gamut, they transcend space and time... Memories are a tunnel to the past, a direct connection to ones earlier days... A life past, a life lived... Memories are etched so deeply within our minds and our bodies, unmistakable,untouched by our progress... Never changed, altered, retouched. Permanent.

Grace, beauty, poise, generosity, love abundant... Calista Ann Walker; Nana. I remember the last time that I saw my Nana alive... We were at my mothers home and as she walked down the hallway to leave, I remember watching her go.... Granted, I didn't know that day that this was the last time that she would kiss my cheek and whisper of her love for me... Although, that is the last memory of her that I have... My favorite memory of my Nana, well that is hard to decipher... The majority of my most highly regarded childhood memories are within close proximity to her arms embrace... I remember each and every one of the grandiose holidays and vacations that she spoiled us with... The dresses each Christmas;the lace and the tulle... In stark contrast, I remember the much simpler days spent in her home and scouring her neighborhood with my sister to make floral arrangements to gift her with... The little moments ring loudest in my memory. I remember the scent of her perfume... The softness of her skin... I remember falling asleep in her bed at night and her holding my hands... I remember the blue of her eyes and the rose of her cheeks... I remember her calling me her favorite number six grandchild, and I remember knowing undeniably that she meant it. If I allow myself, I can travel though these memories to a day we had spent together. I can almost feel my surrounding, a chance to relive my past... But I miss her so much, and my heart aches when I speak her name, so I don't allow myself the opportunity and I leave my memory of her alone. Frozen in time... Nana; as she was that day. And I; the girl I was then...Forever seventeen.

A plethora of memories crowd my mind, swell and fill my chest... The most treasured and renowned; first loves, first babies... And then there are others...

My aunt Kathy is some what of a mystery to me... My fathers only sister, half a sister at that... She came and she went. She was an artist, a free spirit, a lover of nature and all of its fruits... Kathy was a smoker, that I can't easily forget... Her breath was as thick as smoke and her skin was wrinkled... She loved me. I remember that. When she was around, my father was happy, I remember that too. Kathy was a photographer, and with her 35 milometer camera in hand is how I most vividly remember her. Her eye to the the lense; reading light, capturing spirits... I remember her laugh, her smile, her zest for life... I also remember the day that I attended her wake with my father and watched his heart break when they placed the urn holding his sisters body into the mausoleum...