2005-07-17 || 11:59 p.m.

|| 1984: my pediatrician could count two hundred on my face alone. ||

i used to want to wear bactine as perfume because it reminds me of summer and my dad and sunburns and bugbites. getting so burnt that i had to wear the sign of the (criss) cross on my back for weeks on end. the sting of putting on a clean shirt and complaining enough at night for someone to draw a cold bath to lie in.
i don't think i've smelled bactine in almost twenty years. the next time i am in fred meyer i will scout it out, hunch my shoulders up against any surveillance cameras, flip the top open, and breathe all of it in so deeply. our backyard pool and the way my mother wears shorts; pinatas for our summer birthdays and how satisfying it is to scratch at mosquito bites until they bleed.

i have the worst sunburn i've had in years. the kind that makes me miss my pale pale skin. i turn red now without all the freckles. they still collect on my shoulders and arms, but my nose is a sad barren dormant freckle wasteland. just red threatening to peel.

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