2002-11-14 � tinsel bits and fireflies

Tinsel bits and Fireflies

Sometimes thoughts and memories and shiny bits of ephemera flit through my brain like teeny fireflies.

Some of the fireflies that have visited me today:

� I'm in grade four, seated behind Victorina Duma who has hair as dark and shiny as a raven's wing and always smells vaguely of donuts. She is bent over her desk, carefully colouring in her Alice in Wonderland Coloring Book. As her nimble brown fingers trip along her big box of crayolas, I realize for the first time that she uses not just the "flesh" coloured crayon to achieve Alice's rich and enviable skintones, but all the oranges and browns and shades of pink. This is revolutionary to me and changes my personal palette forever.

� The day that my brother convinced me he had captured the Easter Bunny in his closet, but refused to let me see it no matter how I begged and pleaded.

� Making cunning little roses out of white bread, glue and food coloring with my mother one snowy winter afternoon just for fun. And on another day, making a whole landscape of sea creatures with homemade play-doh. My favourite was a pink octopus with bulbous pearl eyes and a sunshine yellow seahorse dotted with tiny yellow glass beads.

� the salty, savory flavour of these artichoke heart appetizers my mother used to make for dinner parties and special occasions.

� The distinctive, stale smell of the (ice) skating arena and the big dangerous bumps near the Zamboni garage that were the result of the Zamboni cooling and dripping.

� And related thoughts of walking the short distance from school to the skating rink, my powder blue skate bag bumping against my left thigh, sweeping the snow from the wide ledge of the low stone wall surrounding the Anglican church as I passed on my way to skating lessons.

all the tinselly bits that mean nothing independently, but tangled together, create the magical, private flavour and texture of one's childhood.


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