Memories of a Childhood Lost: Narative
It all comes back in a rush, this lost memory plays itself back in the theater of my mind. All of a sudden I find myself again, as if I was torn from a dream. I find tears on my face. I’m crying and I can’t stop. And I think how much better things were back then, when innocence was abundant and life wasn't so lifelike.
I found it on a day like any other, checking my Facebook, something I do regularly. I had the computer open to my Mom’s Page, completely oblivious as my hands deftly clicked an album titled ‘Kids Pics.’ A picture popped up of me and my sister when we were younger. I looked at the next picture, and then the next. Taking in each snapshot of my childhood with ease, then moving on. “Click, click... click . . . . . .” That’s when I saw it. The picture that kindled a flame that had been smothered under a cloak of self-deception for years.
Now it burns brightly before my tired eyes an