Monday, April 5, 2010

le moulin



listening to: le moulin by yann tiersen



soul music


remisnicing of

morning sunwalks

to the patisserie van,

sipping on hot cocoa in a bowl,

warm croissants,

homemade crepes,

filled with jam,

and nutella.


reminiscing of

sibling fights,

dog chases,

sandcovered traps,

ghost stories

and dreams,

dark basement cages,

tennis balls in the

cemetery,

the lighted cabin

in the woods,

grandpa's swing,

and sunday meals
as the sun dived down
to the horizon.


sublime peace


memories of
waiting for dad,

after work in the park,

hills filled with treasures,

and imagination.

visiting our vegetable garden in the

middle of downtown,

a riverstream swam through it.

forbidden walks by the railroads,
by a field of coquelicots,

finding dead snakes

and fresh raspberries.


saturday morning market,

roasted chicken for lunch,

summer soccer tournaments,

evening parties in the audiorium,

kids running,

my father hosting.


safe haven


trusting neighbors with children

distributing cilantro and green onions

around the neighborhood

talking to friends

in the evening air

on balconies

kicking soccerballs with the boys

while the girls played barbie

watching bruce lee films

on reruns during weekends

dancing to music

in our tiny living room

singing our talents

to deserving guests like

grandpa santa


watching my father

leave for work every

morning at 6:00

before the sun rose,

only to see him at night

too exhausted to play,

but always ready to help

with homework


a world away


weekend drives to bourges,
singing "un kilometre a l'heure,
ca use, ca use,
un kilometre a l'heure
ca use les souliers."

visiting grandma, grandpa,

uncles, aunts, and cousinsAdd Video

clipping my grandma's toes

sweeping their kitchen floors,

memorizing french songs and

poetry

playing with friends

in the woodhouse

when days were too short

wishing we were older

to drive, to cook, to travel,

to do what we wanted to do

oblivious of the growing pains






1 comment:

  1. Funny! Maimai, KZ and I just reminisced about memories in France: how I pooped in my pants at my penpal (cute Columbian boy?) luncheon, how KZ had a "gypsy" friend who gave her lice and how Maimai hated those radishes and butter! Thanks for the memories!

    ReplyDelete