ER

Ocean blue and slate green, soft brown and blond, yellow ochre, fire red, white and bright filling up a room. I can remember the colors. Washed khaki pants, sky blue blouse with petite white pocadots, little opened toed heals with a bow on each side. Green carpet, clean white shoes with red swooshes, a blue tee shirt.

This one day and the week that followed still fade in and out of my mind. Why have you left such a colorful impression on my mind when after that one week you were nothing but colorless? I don't understand why it seems easier to hold on to things which are not there. In this case I have nothing to hold onto except the memory of color, which really doesn't make sense.

Gone now...the color all gone.

Minny

Kitty cat has found herself up on the kitchen counter. I scold her, fearing that she will find the butter and lick it, leaving few people desiring to slather it on their toast. I pick her off the counter and place her on the floor. I return to my ginger snaps and turnaround to find her back on the counter. There is a little door with a high window next to the counter, she cares little for the butter and is trying to get a better view out this window. I decide not to scold her and instead take her in my arms and lift her up to the window to watch whatever it is she's so insistent to watch. Our faces pressed to the pane, we watch two squirrels humping and scurrying up the tree. Kitty's eyes grow big and curious. We watch the squirrels until they are out of sight. Now kitty sits quietly and patiently at another window.