One small memory I've always kept, even if it was only a small moment, was one afternoon after Sunday dinner. I might've been oh, 10 or 11 years old. I was doing the dishes by myself, the kitchen empty except for my mother sitting at the kitchen table behind me. I'm scrubbing dishes etc, just relaxing and looking out the window that was in front of me over the sink, with neither of us saying anything. I quietly start humming something, just kinda bopping my head ba-dum-bum-bum-bum-ba-dum-bum-bum-bum, just kinda bebopping for no reason. This shortly changed from humming to pshaw-ing out loud the same rhythm with my lips - I'd forgotten my mother was sitting behind me and I was getting noisier. Then from outta the water in the sink I happened to pick up a brush, shaped like a paintbrush, made to put a glaze on a country ham, I'm guessing. I'm bebopping out loud, bopping my head, rinsing the brush off and without breaking rhythm all of a sudden I thrust the brush to the window and give it a few slaps, as if I was painting on a large canvas, like I'm Bob Ross; my slaps with the brush accompanied by my scatting "A BOW-BOW-BOW!" All of a sudden I hear my mother behind me cracking up - I turn around and she's laughing her head off. "Oh god, Greg," she laughed, "you're too funny." Looking back I don't know if it was that funny, and it's a tiny moment in just any ordinary day, but I'll always remember it. - XMASTIMEAnd I'm always shooting for it.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
This Might Explain Something
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