so says the straw hat

2009: The Year of the Bicycle I had a dream about a desert sky, a dusty road, some children climbing scrape-knees sticky-handed tree branches stretching thirsty for the deep red clouds. The simplicity of the kitchen. I did not know yet about love, but I could still dream it. Later I learned magic bicycle songs of the south, how to pronounce swimmin' hole, and how to carry heavy air like a blanket on summer skin. The storm that came was so fierce, my plane could not even come to take me away. 2010: The Year of Tin Trailers & Trains I tried to calculate how many boxcars could sit, end to end, and line up all the way from my trailer in Austin to your little pointed house in Portland. Sometimes those boxcars sat quietly and patient, open doors inviting exploration and adventure. Sometimes they would roll and cry, moving rusted wheels over rusted rails and all the doors on them were shut and I could not see inside. 2011: The Year of Piñatas Love subtracting...

The preview line of the email read "Holy shit. I just realized your not A. Davis anymore." What a conflicting thing to read. I felt immediately smug that my new last name is Mojgani which means I married a man that I love and I loved him enough that it made sense that we would share a name. He agreed to take mine as his middle name so we are going quasi-modern on this one. But after the smug pride of being married came defensiveness. I am too a Davis! I have years of christmas trees and scraped knees, bee stings,  camping trips and popsicle summers to prove it. I can tell you about how my brother cracked his head open on the basement-stair overhang or just the way he sounded when scaring me by howling "I'm Old! Warn Away!" Davis means long car rides and getting sick off of cheezits and tall grass adventures at the ocean. When cousin peed her pants in the back yard. Playing office in the graveyard tree. The gray ghost. Crunching cans, burning ears of indian c...