Miscellaneous memories
- the cookies at a sewing camp I partook in during a Summer in my formative years: like sinking your teeth into a sugar-saturated cloud. the rush I felt as my taste buds danced.
- the first time I nearly fainted in a hot yoga class, my body seemingly collapsing to the ground as my limbs gave out, my visage drenched in salty goodness.
- the time him and I went go- kart racing, our bodies catapulting around a windy track in vessels controlled by our eager arms. subtle laughter bubbling from our mouths and grins covering our sweaty faces.
- the neck snapping jolt as I heard cars colliding around me, shards of glass flying through the air outside and shattering ruthlessly against the window. shrieks surrounding me like imprisoned dragons who had finally been set free.
- bone chilling, ice-cold water flowing below my ski boots as I sunk chest deep into a swamp of snow. locating the fateful picture of the run I was on that had escaped my memory. frantically calling ski patrol and waiting twenty plus minutes while wondering if the snow would swallow me up before my discovery.
- the day I discovered that Santa didn’t exist and the fire spewing behind my stride as I retreated to my bedroom, furious that my parents had lied to me about such an important matter.
- the first time his lips collided with mine, outside of The Fireside on NW 23rd, the cool Winter breeze surrounding our electrified bodies. the longing gaze flowing from our pupils afterward. the warm and fuzzy feeling that circulated throughout my body.
- the view at the top of Angel’s rest- quite fitting to its name, like Mother Earth took her paintbrush to the sky in front of us and went to town for hours on end.
- the evening the ruby red gravel in Bend created a small hole in my right knee. the excruciating pain like nails to bare skin. the brutal scar that remains, a black and purple reminder of that night.
- the days I spent pretending our chocolate lab, Mac, was a horse, placing play saddles on his back along with whichever doll I was into at the time. the hours he spent tenderly going along with it.
- the first poem I wrote that was inspired by soul-ripping heartache. the blessing of pen to paper.
- the time I devoured a popsicle under my grumpy neighbors deck at age 8 just to see what would happen. the “get out of here!” shooting out of her mouth and giggles as I ran away.
- escaping one of my high school girlfriends parents house to “party” at a tennis court with German boys who smelt like those bold men’s colognes in the magazines. getting caught.
- the first time I discovered ecstatic dance like a heaven sent angel that had been missing from my life for eons. the sea of dancers that I can’t wait to drown in week after week.
- putting glue and glitter on my 4th grade crush’s seat after he pulled my chair out from underneath me while I was sitting down. his glitter butt.
Emma Butterfield
Administrator
•Portland based ecstatic dancer and yogi with a quirky sense of humor who loves the outdoors most of the time • Creative Nonfiction and Poetry• Healing backwards and forwards in time• ~My writing is something I pour my heart and energy into. Please keep this in mind and do not share without asking permission.~
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