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dusty corners

Do you ever have days where thoughts and ponderings seem to float up from dusty corners or beneath bed frames as if they've been waiting for a quiet moment to remind you of their existence? Yesterday and today have been so full that these little awakenings remind me that amidst all the tasks and hours and days, there are other dormant parts waiting for me to prod them forward and grant them time of their own. Tonight, is a night for pen and paper and unfolding contemplations. For meaningful telephone conversations with my younger sister, and listening to her beautiful mind. The hours pass just the same, yet not in a leap, but an inch at a time. #stories #creative


Growing up, our meals included Japanese rice on the side of everything. Though our cabinet shelves were filled with chawan bowls and our drawers with ohashi, we always seemed to be running out of clean dishware due to their frequent use. Chazuke (green tea poured over cooked rice) was most often accompanied by tofu and turkey bologna slices with tsukemono and Kikkoman shoyu at the ready. It was a staple--the PB&J equivalent of our household. I remember these simple meals and the many conversations that took place in our little kitchen with the tea kettle's urgent whistle and the aroma of steaming ocha nearby. How I love memory and dear flavors, so delightful in their nostalgia and comfort. 1

tids and bits

When I was a small child, my mother needed to pick something up at our local fabric store. While she shopped, my sisters and I explored the rows of lace and cloth and thread. We soon discovered little tids and bits left behind on the floor where their only future looked to be a life of the forgotten--left behind and tread upon by adults with too many bigger projects in mind to notice the wayward treasures beneath their feet. So, we stooped to pluck them from their saddened fate and popped them protectively into our pockets. It was not until we had reached home that my mother noticed our findings. It was then that we learned that finder's keepers isn't always honest, and that those tids and b

© Kimberly K. Taylor-Pestell