lavender_clouds lostgirl splashed randomly across the dusty blue evening sky, causing my lips to curve into a little private_smile as the day painted itself into a watercolor memory 100729 ... kerry her father died when we were in eighth grade. heart attack. like my dad, audrey’s drove a big van and that’s how we became friends, waiting together at the carpool line for our respective dads in their respective vans. she wore her hair in two long braids and her voice was measured but quiet. her mom didn’t care what we did. she flitted around mutttering to herself and dehydrated most of the produce she ate. audrey’s older sister was loud and aggressive and did whatever she wanted, and when i was in the back seat of her car i really thought i might die. my memories of their house are cloudy, but it was dim and pious-feeling. on the toilet tank in their house was a little finger bowl filled with dried lavender. there was no shower curtain and no one thought or cared to buy one so the bathroom was often soaked. another bowl of dried lavender sat on her nightstand. she wore a coat the color of lavender when it’s fresh, alive. later, she sprinkled lavender in packages she sent me. i can’t think of lavender without thinking of her. 211226 what's it to you? who go blather from