The best memory of USA I have.
Is not the theme park, the beach or the aquarium.
its the memory of soft little baby hands holding your fingers to
walk the length of a house. Of soft fluffy hair below my chin, of
her little feet tucked between my tighs for warmth and she giggling
and talking to me in 'laka laka laka' baby languages.
of small persistent hands grabbing my hands to go fix some toys, to
walk down stairs and giving me dirty looks for stopping him
climbing the outside of stairs.
of time alone in a big lovely house in seattle, listening to smooth
jazz on radio and watching the rain.
And erm...feeling the weight of a couple of live handguns in my
hands.
Arggg.....hhhh......the simple pleasures in life.
