Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts

Sunday, March 30, 2014




Today was spent amidst trees and light
at one of my favorite spots on this vast earth.
I wasn't expecting it because we were working,
but its vitality seeped in unobserved,
permeating and lifting us all.


lifting us all
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

Monday, March 17, 2014





I am trying to do things that are good for me. Like taking walks.

But, my feet didn't want to tread Monrovia's sidewalks today. So, I found myself in my old, childhood neighborhood nestled up against the foothills of the mountains in all their loveliness. Streets lined with old trees and one-of-a-kind houses with personalities and presence.

I recognized so many of them as I walked with my shadow along familiar roads and streets and courts and avenues. I remembered which houses had occupants who smiled at tiny uniformed Brownie Girl Scouts. I remembered the houses we avoided and the houses that scared me--they always had long, curving driveways with overgrown, unkempt plants or hedges that made it so you couldn't see the front door from the street.

I remember sweet Mrs. Moser with her cotton hair and her springed screen door that snapped back the second you let go. And the old man who lived on Holdman Avenue who had a really gruff voice and was missing two-thirds of his pointer finger. I remember watching his grease-covered hands as he gingerly filled out the cookie order form in all caps, wondering how he lost is finger and if it happened a very long time ago. I remember the family who had a lot of little kids and they were so busy that it always took at least 3 attempts before we found someone home in order to deliver their cookies. I remember the chipper elderly couple who ordered an entire case of Thin Mints every year. I remember how short she was and how tall he was, and how she always seemed to be wearing a teal velvet robe with a zipper that ran all the way down to the ground whenever we stopped by. And every year, they would tell us how they put the Thin Mints in the freezer and ate them all year long until we came back again.

I think I'll make a habit of these hometown walks. I expect they'll do me good.


walking memories
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

Tuesday, November 19, 2013




I recall when we were small
and time went by so fleetingly
with flashlight beams beneath our sheets
and story-telling into dreams

Every November, I remember
sharing a birthday month with you
theme-party planning over Halloween candy
and being so silly and free

How I miss the childhood bliss
imagination, a state of being
while never-ending play-pretending
was found and stayed and came to be



 
a ditty for my big sister, stephanie "blue roses" komashin
on her birthday (based on Japan's time zone)
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

Monday, November 18, 2013




A recent milestone birthday brought on an unexpected wave of reflection, introspection and an onslaught of thought bubbles with long, winding trains. Words and ink and blank pages are good for this type of thing. I need to stop reconfiguring and let thoughts be as they are as they are as they are.

The milestone is an interesting concept. What makes it more pronounced than the other years, anyway? Perhaps it's like a emboldened chapter title in a fancy little font so that you remember where you are in relation to the grand scheme of pages before and after.

A pause might be appropriate for relocating parts of moments and conversations, to piece them together to see them more clearly so that they don't go missing before I've learned what I need to learn from them.

Ten years is a long time to remember, friends, let alone a lifetime. So, I'll only try to remember the last ten years for now. I don't want a life of blurred memories if I can help it. So, I'll try to hold on to even the dark ones because they mean something, too. Maybe even more sometimes.

In the last ten years, I have learned...


...how to be okay

...that people have different definitions of the role of "friend," and maybe that's part of the beauty of finding what you'd call a "true" one

...that wearing polka dots has a high probability of elevating your overall countenance

...how to kiss

...that small successes are oftentimes more important than the ones everyone else tells you are most important

...where to go for the best chai tea latte in the whole wide world

...that a beloved childhood long-lost cousin was alive and well all these years, and that he is a kindred spirit for writing the most wonderful letters

...that I'm not stupid

...that going from no bangs to with bangs can change your life, and I should never ever ever-ever-ever go back

...that I can identify myself as an artist, and it can be true

...that making new friends who haven't known me since forever can be liberating because they won't naturally pigeon-hole you the same way

...that I can love far more deeply than I can hate, and it feels like a relief to know

...how much intentional thoughtfulness it takes to create a wedding day that is about community instead of individuals, and how many traditional rules need to be broken for authenticity's sake

...that I overuse the words "true," "quite," "lovely," and "wonder," and probably have too many commas in most of my sentence-strings

...how many of the beliefs I held growing up have been altered to something hopefully more loving, less judgmental, and therefore, more accurate if I really get the whole point of it at all

and,

 ...that every day is actually worth paying attention to (especially when it's cold out)



iphone | francine narnia - Île Saint-Louis 
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

Wednesday, November 13, 2013




This happened.

It's hard to believe that since Jason's perfectly original, overcast autumn proposal two years ago yesterday, we have experienced so much newness. New jobs for both of us, a truly true wedding, the making of our first little home and finding out that being "us" really is the most naturally lovely thing I have encountered.

I am so happy with our little life together even when outside shadows taint clear days. And remembering that the true joy of two years ago, is one of those wonderful things I understand that no one else can possibly share in, except for Jason and me. Because it was just us there in that moment, sitting in a small, curtained photo booth waiting for the flash. And maybe that is why we can't ever forget.

And it doesn't even matter that when we returned to the Italian cafe this weekend, the wide glass windows shown through to a now vacant expanse waiting for a new buyer to come along with a new vision, or that our beloved little photo booth at the newspaper shop broke down and the owner had to bid it goodbye.

There may not be anything left of that day but our memories and priceless photo strips, but the beauty of it all hangs in the air like red paper kites, tails streaming in the wind.


Thursday, September 26, 2013



 

iphone | a fair to remember (los angeles county fair, calif.)
 © kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved


Monday, September 2, 2013




and the wonder of it all
comes flooding back
even though it never really left

impossible film, px600 uv+ silvershade | a once forever
photograph by michael finster of blue kite photo


Saturday, October 6, 2012



          


Life's greatest moments should ever be
documented through the photo booth.
In old, authentic photo booths that still
use black and white developing chemicals 
and come out all wet and smelly and a
with just the right amount of grain in
texture. This is the way we ought to
remember the years: in little curtained
boxes filled with silliness and joy.


los angeles county fair, photo booth | september 2012

Friday, September 10, 2010

nihon daydream

I am aching to travel again.  And when I want to go, but need to stay, reminiscing keeps things bright.  Today is for floating scarlet tori, aqua seas, and beautiful happa sisters.



{Canon 30D & Canon PowerShot G9:  from Nihon 2009 series}
© Kimberly K Taylor, all rights reserved

Friday, August 27, 2010

Remembering Seattle

I am in need of an excursion.  Something that is calming, not adventurous.  Something that involves photo-taking and moseying and is devoid of time restrictions.  Preferably involving lovelies (like sister or Megan or Katelyn) who appreciate artistic pause and the enchanting charm of small noticeables.

So, I am reminiscing about that time I was invited to meet her Seattle.  And everything seemed to make sense because she walked around and laughed and seemed to be a part of it.  Like she belonged in some secret way, like she was made there and its self was in her blood.  The place suited her.  She suits everyplace, yes, but the significance was that the place suited her.

For me, it was unknown and colorful and overcast and full of polaroids and perfectly delightful.  I saw lovely things and ate lovely things and talked lovely things.  And I wish I could be there with her again this weekend to see it all again.


{canon 30D:  from when i met seattle series}
© Kimberly K Taylor, all rights reserved
(with the exception of the one I am in, which was taken by my sister, BB)


old words are appropriate for today:

they can't take away the words
nor the meanings, self-contained
why do colors bleed away
melting into inbetweens
destroying all the might-have-beens
pinching in the touch of swords
tears that we can see are feigned
streaming kite tails cannot stay
highlights of the dreamy scenes
classy red and blackened sheens