Plastic lights bobble along the patio wall. Inside multi-colored paper clips and fabric boxes, yarn and sequins stacked in cubbies, child’s playroom for greeting-card guru, red construction paper and computer screen the size of a bed, fine stiff tulips relaxed piano notes — she found her Santa Barbara. Bougainvillea spills over the view framing sunset-valley eye-level for short-grandmother-Mavis, magenta thin-petals and lighted plastic bobbles and chimes dance and dangle, wise-woman hands inked and painted, record of joy and death transformed into keep-sake. She sits with crafted memory, a garden only a few square feet visited every day.
(from I Can See You — A Collection of Neighbors)
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