|From Adriana Baking|
As a child, I went through phases of short-lived obsessions.
In my early years of elementary school, I spent every minute of free time playing with my sister and our neighbor, inventing fantastical adventures for our dolls. Most days we played outside, building for them houses out of rocks and leaves while they sat a safe distance away, sheltered from our dirty messes. The next morning, after a night of rainfall, our handiwork palaces would be washed away. But we would start over again, relentlessly gathering smooth twigs and perfectly round pebbles to stash away.
I picked up one of my dolls last week and ran my fingers through her tangled hair. Looking into her painted eyes, memories of my ten year old self came dislodged from the back of my head – I had forgotten they were there. Read the rest of this entry »