My mother's sheets are always crisp. Light colors topped with thin white knit blankets, finished with an airy quilt. Greens and purples, cool to the touch as you slip between them, soothing and fresh.
They make me think of sheer white curtains, summer days, curling up with a book and sandy legs, sunburned shoulders. The warmth of the sun cooled by layers of sheets.
Sea shells stacked in clear glass jars, and lined up on window sills. Daydreams and books and journals. Quiet time, alone time. Peace and tranquility in the midst of adolescent woes and headaches.
Sheets transformed into a catalyst. Memories of days gone by spent with a mind that drifted with curiosity to now. Yesterdays with hopes and dreams, waiting for today.
And today... the memories will be good.
