I’m always so
impressed how immediate our senses trigger the memory. I was given a
coffee-flavored chocolate the other day and was struck by the following memory…
The smell of
coffee brewing in the morning. I hop out of bed, my six-year-old bare feet
sliding through the shag carpet in the dim, chilly light. Peeking around the
corner, I see Nana at kitchen window gazing out to the early morning light, a
cigarette dangling from her lips like a dying leaf. “Come on in,” her course
voice calls to me without looking. Her six-sense baffles me. I join her,
standing side-by-side, she still in her night gown. She turned to me, “What’d
you dream?” She always knew I had one tucked away. I speak, weaving a tale of a
flying boy with super-human abilities. I don’t know if she hears my story or if
her mind is wondering off somewhere else as she listens to my squeaky voice. I
don’t care. I give her a hug anyhow.
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