are fuzzy and 2 dimensional sometimes,
like time-lapse photography,
frame by frame,
sometimes just a glimpse
or a sniff, touch, sensation.
Thinking about my earliest memories,
I was 5 years old. Dad delivered mail.
I knew that much.
I also knew that the mailbox by the police station
was where Mom would go or send one of us to
put the mail in chute of the the big metal box.
One day I carefully gathered leaves and
who knows what and I made an envelope and glued it.
Mary, I wrote in crayon on the front.
I took it up to the corner mailbox and slipped it in.
Later that day, Dad's low voice, the one that says
You are in trouble, mary
"Mary...." He said simply.
He had the envelope in hand.
His head tipped a little,
go ahead mary, confess
(my plans foiled, it was supposed to come in our mailbox)
I was most shocked that he suspected Me!
How did he know??
We got through that day and he did not really have to punish me more.
Thinking fondly of him as I write this and
wish him the best