I am three, maybe I am walking in the rain with my Dad in Eugene. He is young, still healthy. Still alive. I am jumping in puddles wearing rubber boots jumping with such glee that the memory lingers all these long years later. Later, my finger gets stuck in an elevator door a metal gate-like monstrosity my universe explodes with pain. How tangled, how intertwined: Joy and pain tight as a toddler's hug. And all, on a single morning so long ago on a walk in the rain with my Dad.
Wonderful writing. Especially this phrase, "tight as a toddler's hug."
This is so beautiful!! I’m glad you’re back!! 💕
💕💕💕
LOVE this!
Just may be the thing you've written that has touched me to most.
Thank you!