I associate books with the place in my life I was in when I read them
The smells.
The tastes
The places.
The feeling I got back then.
Catching Fire smells like rain.
It feels like the chill on fresh fall air.
It is going to a little kitschy restaurant with my parents.
It is looking at Christmas ornaments in the gift shop.
It tastes like key lime and sugar.
It feels like excitement.
Going to the new library in the forest for more things to read.
Traveling to the fancy shopping center to get textbooks along the way.
It feels like hope and possibilities.
It feels like middle school.
Mockingjay feels like the frosty bite of winter.
It feels like waiting for my mother in the doctor's office.
It feels like panic and sounds like my father's yell.
It feels like the world is going to end and walking on eggshells.
The Hunger Games feels like summer.
Like warm sun and bees divebombing my ears.
Like making a grocery run with my mom.
Tastes like greasy chicken and feels like laying on the cold wood floor next to my dog.
It feels like anxiety is rising up, choking my throat as I lay in bed.
I listen to the audio recording trying to get my mind on something else.
It feels like comfort.
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes feels like 18.
Like waking up at dawn on my birthday to drive to Target to get the special edition.
It feels like buzzing and staying up all weekend reading.
It tastes like flan and feels like the air conditioning will never get up high enough.
I could tell you the very seat I sat in at the library reading Catching Fire for the first time
I could show you the exact page I landed on as we pulled up to my grandmother's house.
I could show you the parking place, at the post office where, my sister and I paused the audio book when Peeta strangled Katniss.
I could show you the pillow I clung to as I cried when Prim died.
These stories are woven deeply into the fabric of my life.
So tightly that I can scarcely think of fall and not think of the Victory Tour.
Not think of that bookstore and think of the Games.
I can't separate my life from the stories I read while living it.
YOU ARE READING
Musings on Life from a Dead Girl
Poesía#2 in poetry July 2024 Poetry about the life of a girl.
