I like to sing!

Some days I could listen to Simon and Garfunkel all day. I sing along and remember the clouds at dawn outside the train window as it moved north from St. Louis to Chicago. It’s rocking rhythm soothing that 20 year old’s anxieties. Walkman in my ears, I owned my space of serenity.
I saw faces in the sky, like the Prophet. I saw horses and unicorns, ships and soldiers. I saw them all slide away in wisps, now unnameable forms. I sat with a notebook in my lap, pen gliding confidently across the paper and out came my heart. She is my little girl, waiting always for the safe place to emerge and sit with me, inform me, hold my hand as a child does and I smile.
She likes clean kitchens, clean laundry folded and hung, clean table tops, fresh floors. She likes a spring breeze and the sound of autumn leaves skidding along the pavement, tumbling over each other like kittens. She likes the sound of finger picking on an acoustic guitar folk style. She likes cup cakes made of chocolate, loving hugs, dancing in the streets, laughter, beautiful poetry, sitting on the steps at the Baha’i House of Worship at 11pm on a summer night, sitting in it’s auditorium after the lights are turned down, before the doors are locked. She likes writing til 1am with Allison. She likes walking slowly, listening inside and out, especially when birds sing.
She likes me to remember and honor her.

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