Remnants

Crumbs are scattered on our wooden table

Remnants

Like scarves blowing at midnight

Or a shoe flipped on its side

They’ve gone, left us behind

Finished their lattes and their biscotti

Walking home after the café has closed

The scarf catching on a chair back

Or the fleur-de-lys of a cast iron fence

Or simply wafting out from the fingers holding it.

Memory. Remembrance. Remnants.

Left over fabric

The last unsold books

The smells that tap directly into memory

Shadows in My House, Paula Hendricks

The lilacs in the outdoor patio in Santa Fe

The wisteria in Italy

The honey suckle in my Gram’s backyard

These smells of sweet sweet plants.

Memory

A patchwork quilt

Of events and times and places

Food. And smells. Touch

The air on my skin

The way energy rushes through my body

The way he smells

The way his mouth twitches

The way my heart stutters and falls into rhythm

The sense of possibilities

Of hope

And futures

And live woven together in a rich tapestry.

Find out more about Paula Hendricks at paulahendricks.com