P-I-C-T-U-R-E

P-I-C-T-U-R-E, p-i-c-t-u-r-e, picture....When I was six I loved to spell this word. I would spell it over and over; a feverishly whispered one word mantra for my first grade mind. Picture had flow. Picture had cadence. It also had seven letters, an odd letter combination, and was not readily rhymed. All of this allure in just one word.

I found picture one night while delivering croissants with my mom in downtown Anchorage. One of her clients was an old Frenchman and his wife who owned a now defunct liquor store. Driving in our bright yellow Colt, we would pass a back lit business sign that had the word picture on it in big block letters. Every week I would look forward to seeing that sign, and for several minutes afterwards I would mutter "p-i-c-t-u-r-e" under my breath, or in my head; a secret pleasure all my own.

Spelling picture boosted my confidence. If I could spell a word like that at six, I could protect my best friend from bullies, arm wrestle my way to the top of my first grade class (wearing a dress, no less), and do a cartwheel off the high beam in gymnastics. In short, I could own my small world. I did. It was cool.

In second grade I found Mississippi...a fantastic mouthful if there ever was one. The glory of Miss-iss-i-pp-i was short lived though; it was too slippery, and having only one vowel, rapidly lost it's appeal. P-i-c-t-u-r-e has stood the test of time and remained a favored friend. Even now, I murmur it sometimes when I need a lift, or when I need to walk tall and don't feel like it. P-i-c-t-u-r-e: it still delivers a smile.