that I return to the land of my birth. The plethora
of memories, memories of every color, shape
and size, keep me at bay. I find myself drumming
up the courage to return. Once there, it's never as
bad as I anticipated, so why the drama? Why the
reluctance? I've pondered and pondered and
certainly I've put my finger on a few things . . .
This was the parental home and birth place, this
was where I lost my father. I remember my young
school days fondly, but not so church. I have a
myriad of feelings regarding friends, puberty
and leaving home at 14. But here too, is where
I find my daughter, my niece . . . great loves of
my life that they are. And perhaps, re-encountering
the geography of my mind, painful that it may be,
is just what the gods require.
must have a wee peek
tentatively opening
scrapbook of my mind
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