Memories of childhood


It’s a Sunday evening. The week unfolds ahead of her, beckons her to places lacking exotic names, each calendar addition taking away the numbered days of growing up.

She’s grateful in the moment, has memories by the boxes stacked up in her mind for the retelling, a compartment for each accomplishment, a ready cache of goodness to pull forth from her mind when the young ones are on that cliff of wonder, released into the world, as she once was.


An unfathomable opportunity they say- the same she learned after her time in the classrooms of life.



#for Reticent Mental Property. Image courtesy of

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