There are several moments in my life that live in my memory as brilliant watercolor paintings -- rich charcoal drawings, etched, living and breathing in the sweetest, most tender corners of my recollection.
-The brisk summer air in the evening in my grandmother's garden. Cool. Blue. Green. Red specks of clay-like dirt cover cousin's shoes. Serene and sweet like the honey candy Grandad's arthritic hands stretched white.
-My mother's hair twirled in neon butterfly clips -- chestnut and shining. The mirror silver and brilliant. Myself, nine years old and a famous hair stylist.
-The rain -- unexpected and chilling our bones, but we embraced it anyways. Friends -- young and young at heart. Jumping. Twirling. Laughing.
-Nathaniel's sweet smile. Teeth, clothes, room -- white. His hands gripping mine, his eyes glittering and brown. Simple. Beautiful. Pure and white -- so white. A 'yes' that will resonate with me through the eternities.
A thousand moments condensed, folded and sorted into the archives of my memory, waiting for brief moments to stretch and expand, overtaking my mind in streaks of sweet scents and intense colors.