Mom's voice like peach fuzz
Memories on blankets of soft white silk fluttering in the warm wind-
rippling back to me with the tide.
Dad's strong hands, rough and tired from hours on the stearing wheel. Reaching from behind the seat. Finding my soft pink hands.
I see his broad smile and glimmering eyes in the rear view mirror.
Love
A slow drive down south to California.
Asleep on the bumpy road with their murmurs and low laughter lulling me to dream.
