Home Vignette

All houses have a distinct smell. So easily recognizable. When I borrow a friends sweater, I always appreciate how it smells just like them. Is it a bad smell? they ask. It's not good or bad or describable in any way, just you.
The only time I can smell my house's scent, and it's only for a second, is when I come back from a long trip. As I shuffle through the door dazed from the long car ride, my mind registers the faint scent of the house, usually so familiar it is unrecognizable. But for this moment my brain can register the smell and guess at what is is made up of. Lingering smoke from a fire, baked goods, and stone.

Photo Vignette

Inside my dancing bear sweatshirt that is my favorite, I am so cozy. All of the sudden I grew cold when the sun dissapeared. But I have the same feeling you get when you put clothes on straight from the dryer. My Keds help me climb all over the rocks, leaping from one to the next. They feel safe and I'm not even scared that I will fall into the water and get carried away.
Dad wants to take a picture of me like always. So I take a rest from my leaping and crouch down on a rock. My dads camera is very old and I hope he doesn't drop it because it would break just like an egg. He looks funny with his eye all squinty but I'm used to it. He snaps the picture and I think that I would like to stay here for a long time.

Name Vignette

Apparently my name means 'pure', but that's not what I think of. Calm and elegant are more accurate. A woman sitting down to breakfast. 'Pure' sounds so saintly and clean. But I think there are Katherine's with fire.
My name changes feeling with changes of speakers. Some make my name flow, utilizing all three syllables, building me up to be more refined than I am. But most-failing to notice the middle, the peanut butter- make it sound flat and metallic. Why the 'er' is so easily neglected I'll never know.
Lying on the table in the operatine room, my name waits to be cut up, rearranged, shortened. Katie, Kate, Kathy, Kat Katrina. Endless abbreviations. Versatile. Thank god I have a K instead of a C. The C brings an elderly, ugly feel. Beauty is lost along with the three slashes.
I was not named after anyone. My parents simply liked the name. No great aunt or godmother sharing the nine letters with me, trying to squeeze in. There would be no room.