A collection of my memories: For years as a small child, when it rained in Denver, especially during the hot summers, I would walk outside and put rocks in my mouth. To me the rocks tasted like rain smelled. I was comforted by the connection between taste and smell.
6 years old. Hiding under the back porch with my neighbor boyfriend, kissing and not knowing how or why.
5 years old. Waking after hearing my mother and father come home from dinner with friends. Falling asleep in my mother's lap. Her breath smelled of fresh garlic.
11 years old. In the mirror, comparing myself to the image of the girl on the cover of a Teen magazine cover. I remember thinking only my eyes were as beautiful as hers.
7 years old. Sneaking into my neighbor's tool shed to inhale it's earthy musk.
8 years old. Snuggling with my dog Bridgette after a big fight with my best friend. Telling myself I didn't need a best human friend when I had the best dog friend in the world.
7 years old. Finding a dead cat on the playground and somehow convincing myself that this cat was mine.
10 years old. Singing and dancing around a barrel of fire with strangers in Cartegena, Columbia while my parents slept under a thatched roof.