Paper Hearts; Pistachio & Fig Bars Preview # 1

High and breathing in rhythm with the music while the last weekend of summer keeping me company in the backseat is where I want to be. The sky is a frosty lilac and warm loving pink. Thick summer clouds begin to thin as we head north. It's one of those moments that you wish you could capture everything about. The scents, the temperature, the sensation deep within you... The haze from the blueberry gummies drifts over me and I have to crack the window. I feel the stress of the week slipping out of me. The anxiety melted into relaxation as I lose myself in Post Malone's Texas Tea. I love music even more when I'm high; I feel the vibrations of the music through my headphones and into my veins. It transcends space and time, as I skip through the decades and genres saved on my phone. I love the warm wind against my skin. My eyes glittered behind my sunglasses as I popped another blueberry gummy. It was almost like a blueberry lemonade than a fresh ripe blueberry. The sting of the critic acid on the outside was a warm welcome touch, creating the perfect balance of sour and sweet.  I slip my headphones back on and let The Barenaked Ladies take me back to innocent times. Despite getting high earlier and sleeping away most of the afternoon, I'm tired on the ride home. I watch for stars exploding into the night sky. The smooth purples are becoming an inky navy colour, chasing away another day. My eyelids grow heavy as the sky above grows darker. I could fall asleep right here with Matchbox 20.  You wouldn't guess that we're already into the first weekend of September with the heat today. Hidden behind sun-blocking curtains and an old table fan, I'm writing away. It feels good to get back to the pen, to the keyboard. I've had so many ideas that I've had so much trouble getting out. I can only describe it as emotional constipation. Snacking on pistachios and fig bars, the framework of a new book begins to come together. Summer memories with my grandmother burn the back of my tongue as they flow out of me. I flip through the pages of Origins by Dan Brown. I've had it all this time and I've never read it. For 6 years the book has sat on my shelf, untouched. I don't know what it is, but today seems like the day to finally open the book. The spine cracks slightly as I open up to the introduction.  I've always loved the Robert Langdon adventures. I was 12 years old when my grandmother introduced me to Angels & Demons. She sold it to me as a historical, yet spiritual thriller. It was around that time in my life when I started to question what the Catholic faith meant, and what my own beliefs were and I questioned what, if anything, would happen if I found myself exploring another set of beliefs?  She bought me a copy of the book at a local shopping centre and took me out for big, greasy cheeseburgers. I was careful not to stain the pages of my copy of Angels and Demons while reading it during lunch. I'd gotten halfway through in Barb's copy before she took me out to get my own. I've always felt that getting to know people by their favourite literature, the books. that keep them warm, you'll have a glimpse into their inner world.  We slipped our milkshakes as we discussed the differences between growing up Protestant (her) and Catholic (me). She was born in the mid-1930s, and while I was in the early 1990s, we still had so many interests in common. It went beyond Dan Brown's Thrillers and books as a whole. She loved the arts and travel. She gave me her favourite recipes, some of them from her mother's side of the family from Sweden. In her careful cursive script, she'd write in her own notes on the recipes and substitutes.  As I grew older and began to travel to all these amazing places, I'd collect postcards for her from every city that I'd been to. I'd call her every time I visited a new place, I'd tell her about the sights and the cities. She'd ask about the cultures, favourite restaurants I had and where I wanted to go next. We'd talk about the literature the countries I was going to were famous for and I'd tell her about the breath-taking cathedrals I'd visited. She lived vicariously through me as I got older and I was always more than happy to share pictures and stories with her. We shared a love of New York City. We'd been together on three separate occasions throughout the year. My favourite memory is Christmas 2010-We went to see the Rockettes perform as a holiday gift to ourselves. We took the coach down from Massachusetts to Port Authority. We got hot cocoa, visited Barnes and Noble and just had to see the tree all down at Rockafeller Centre. We talked about Home Alone 2 (my favourite installment) and she took me to where Duncan's Toy Chest was. Even though I was grown, I thought it was pretty cool that my grandmother knew where they'd shot for the film. She showed me a warmth to New York City, despite the December frost.  Jesus, I really got on a roll there. I guess the edibles have really loosened up the memory machine.  It feels good to remember Barb, especially since she really loved the summer. I've had a lot of time to think over the past few summer months and it's really put things into perspective. I wish Barb was here so I could share with her my biggest goals yet, both professionally and travel-wise. I wish I could tell her about my course study. I know she'd be excited for me; not only because I was doing something that was challenging that I enjoyed, but because it would fulfil me as a person. It feels like it's been a lifetime since she's been gone, although in reality it's only been about 7 years. Funny how we all measure time differently when it comes to different things.