Laundry List: the memories that give me flutter fairies

1. I get hearts in my eyes when I remember what it was like when I first moved to Blueberryville. I would open my eyes each morning and just look out my window for half an hour before making a single move. Looking back now, that level of peace sounds outrageous. I'd journal and make a bagel without a toaster or a pan, just by setting the two halves directly on a rack in the oven. Then, I'd put on my warmest coat and gloves, and walk up to campus with cherries for a nose and ears, so bitter. Once I'd get to the gym, I'd shed my layers and just relish in the place. It was my favorite spot in the world. I loved that room on the top floor with the walls of windows and the bars of light on the ceiling, so fancy, so dreamy.

2. There was this song that's not a real song. It doesn't have a name, so I call it cute and raining. And sometimes, I'll search for the little screen recording that I have of this 52 second sound, and listen to it for an hour. It takes me right back to that morning that I woke up in the RV after we'd just moved mom in over Christmas break. I see myself getting ready in the bedroom, sending kisses to the golden sunlight that poured through the windows, and trying to learn the words. Then, I remember when I was waitressing that one chilly night in February. Our tables were empty for hours, so I was balancing up at the tippy top of the ladder, washing the vents. There was this boy that I was seeing who would take me on drives in his truck, and as we'd curl around corners and up the mountain, I'd always played alley-oop and sung quietly under my breath. He kept saying that he wanted to hear me sing, but I'd get shy and bat my eyelashes and put my chin down. That night as I tried not to fall of the ladder as I scrubbed the ceiling, I sang cute and raining over and over again. And when I got home, I texted him and said, "Alright, I know what song I'll sing for you." Isn't that just kind of lovely?

3. I love to think about how my fruit obsession has been around for years. Before pomegranate, it was blueberry, before blueberry, strawberry, then cherry, then lemon, and back in the sixth grade, I was in love with watermelon everything. When I'd draw pictures of myself, my dresses would be red at the top with little, black polka-dots, and a green hem.

4. There's always this feeling on a night like tonight, where the candlelight is just swoony and the rain is out, and the music sounds just right. I know that I'll miss this one day. I'll miss this uncomfy, ugly, blue couch, this beautiful window, and the streetlight right outside of it that I've written stories about for my Creative Writing class. It's a soon-to-be memory.

5. More of those: the collection of nights that we've spent up until 2 or 4 A.M. playing Frogge or Rummikub and waking up at 6:30 the next morning to go to weight training and tumbling, feeling like I could fly on those trampolines, learning my back half, and throwing tricks that I'd never dreamt I'd be able to. So much confidence came out of that class.

6. The last few months that mom and I were in the apartment, when we'd watch How I Met Your Mother every night, even though the channel kept playing the same episodes over and over. We were absolutely addicted to Cosmic Brownies and had no idea how much we'd miss that place once we moved out.

7. The summer before, when I worked in the bakery, and I'd leave for my shift just before 2 A.M. On Sundays, we would make certain that we'd both be home to watch Yellowstone together. If one of us missed it, the other would be livid. We binge-watched the whole second season in June, as I worked on my bag of birthday candy. Once all the Starbursts and Tootsie Rolls were gone, it sat on her bedside table for months, full of the rejects: some Jolly Ranchers and other hard candies. (You know I only like the softies.) Maybe twice every two months, I'd reach in for a try and suck on a Jolly Rancher. It just made me happy to see my little mark left on her room, that bright colored bag of sweets amidst her grown up, dark color scheme.