Wednesday, November 8, 2006

Memory is an odd thing.

As I am sitting at my desk at work writing an article, I am suddenly whisked into a more innocent world by a picture from long ago.

I am sitting in a kitchen near an old wood cooking stove, with chairs that are old. Mom and Dad are talking--I hear them. The smell of cooking meat permeates the air. Someone gives me canned peas to eat. I don't like them, but they are warm. A white-haired woman comes into the room leaning on her cane. My great-grandmother smiles.

I feel safe.

I hope I can give my children memories like that.


Anonymous said...

I want to feel safe.

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