A Small Memory
We Are Our Memories
I have a small memory, possibly my oldest. It’s clung to me while others laden with more importance or urgency have fled to the inaccessible shadows of my mind. Yet this momentary flash contains the details of a small family. Details my mother and I are now the only ones who can recall.
It is a small, dimly lit room. Two rooms with no wall between. A sitting room and a bedroom…