Posted on June 27, 2007 by Aura
“I learned to ride a bicycle when I was two years old.”
“One of my proudest moments was winning the gold medal in my hockey league when I was goalie.”
“My favourite colour is still undecided at the age of 21.”
“I started smoking when i was 17.”
“My first dog was named Frieda. She died when I was 12. She was the same age as me to a month.”
“When I was about 7 my best friend and I used to knock over the mailbox on the way home everyday until an old woman finally yelled at us.”
“I had a pet snake named noodles. He ran away and I never found him, though I suspect he’s still somewhere in the house.”
“I’m a romantic
And I am wooing you.”
Posted on June 25, 2007 by Aura
Home is a matronly woman, dressed in an old fashioned summer dress with polka dots on a thin material. Her hair is long, but not too long, with a hint of gray through soft curls of tired youth. She looks at me like no one else, and talks overwhelmingly in clich?s which, from anyone else, would sound commonplace and stale.
Home is a panorama of my six year old self with a scraped knee and dirty feet. She is the sound of teenage gossip on the run-down Boulevard and the scent of cigarettes from a third floor bedroom window. Home looks like me. I have her nose, and she has my laugh. We share a taste in music and cheap earrings from the corner store run by a middle aged gypsy woman.
Home knows I don’t think about her all the time. She knows I’m too busy to send Christmas cards or call on her birthday. She wakes up in the morning and goes to sleep at night without me. She cooks, she cleans, she adopts stray kittens. She shows up to her low-paying job every day and walks home with the sound of children laughing and their mothers’ impatient calls to dinner.
Home will prepare the guest bed for me, but I will fall asleep on her lap instead, like always. She won’t mind.
