Come Here

As Lauren and I are about to leave the house I say, Come here! We walk over uneven ground. Rocks make their way into our shoes, sticks poke our ankles, and I position her so that the last light of the evening barely touches her. I snap a few shots, we hit the 101 S and I take 2 pictures from the passenger window. This is a mix of one of those pictures and Lauren in the last light of this bleary Monday.


I took a picture and wrote something – they were separate affairs, but I like them together now.


   My skin has freckles. More than there are flowers in the garden down the street, more than there are coins in my purse, more than there are words on a page. Maybe people threw paint at me when I was a child. Maybe I’m just physically indecisive and couldn’t pick just one color. Whatever happened, I feel decorated. Skin is bizarre, and kinda beautiful.