PARTS AND PIECES
I remember it was cold, burning cold. There might have been snow on the ground. The wind was blowing, I can still feel the sting against my cheeks. Over the years the picture has faded, but the feelings have remained. Finding shelter was my first priority. As a child my imagination started to race. I had been daydreaming about conquering it for sometime. I climbed it, the one that sat right outside my bedroom window like a pristine statue. I had a hammer in one hand, nails in my coat pocket, and an old yellowed undershirt of my dads stuffed in my armpit. I was a scrappy little girl with wild hair. I remember the smell, safety. I picked two branches that stemmed from the trunk, and started hammering. Soon I had a hammock of sorts, perfect. The feeling of nuzzling between the branches was independence and pride. I had found my shelter. I pulled my hood around my face and listened to the wind howl around me. I’m not sure how long I stayed, but long enough to keep it as a memory for decades.