Thursday, May 6, 2010

Happy sticks

For a few years a take small branches with me from walks I make. At home I'll cover them up in a colorful coat. When I knit up the coat I go through al sorts of memories. The colorful sticks just make me happy. People ask to tell about the trip I made when picking up certain sticks but I do not remember which stick comes from which walk. Though the sticks are all there. The one I picked from my parents garden when my mom had just passed away, the one that became mine during a very painful walk/conversation with my girlfriend, the one when I decided to go through operation. Even the one that came from the tree that Anne Frank saw during WOII which she wrote about in her diary.


Ginni Fleck said...

Nice to see your blog too! I pick up stones...I don't do much with them and then I tend to forget where they each come from. Perhaps I shall take some ideas from you on this. I want to hold onto the memories of place.

anzkanz said...

"the one when I decided to go through the operation"...welke tak is dat? je a

Ik brei said...

Dag Gini, I read and like your blog very much. It still doesn't seem possible to leave a comment there. Feel free to use any idea. I am curious as to what turns out of them in your hands.
Dag Ans, I do remember the one that I picked up after we first met though.