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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Time moves quickly, catching me unaware. It seems just yesterday I was a child growing up. Yet in a way, it seems like eons ago. I wonder where all the years went. I know I’ve lived them all and frequently walk down the memory lane of my youth where my memories, those paper boats of my childhood, float on the waves of my mind. I catch glimpses of how life was back then; and the fading, sepia-colored memories of my childhood come alive, bringing back the mood and spirit of those simpler, bygone days. “You kids go outside and play,” Mother frequently said. Such play often did not involve much in the way of props and relied upon us kids to use our imaginations and energy. Hide n’ Go Seek; Kick the Can; Hopscotching; and making paper boats and floating them in a nearby stream are a few that come to mind. When Dad arrives home from work, he slowly clambers from his pickup truck, his empty thermos of coffee in his hand. I run towards him squealing, “Daddy’s home!” He tosses his thermos aside and pickd me up with his rough, callused hands—soft with love and supple with trust. “I love you Sweetie Pie!” he exclaimed. “I love you, too, Daddy! Give me an ‘airplane’ ride, Daddy, please,” I begged. Regardless of how tired he was, he always obliges me, holding one hand and one foot then spinning me around faster and faster. I land, falling on the grass and daisies in our front yard, giddy with laughter. It is by far one my favorite moments and one of the fondest memories I have of my dad. I run inside flinging open the screen door. There stands Mother in her apron patterned with lilac butterflies and colorful robins. When I think of it, I experience a moment of serenity when I see her in that apron, arms wide, a hug just steps away. On top of the stove covered in a shower cap is a mixing bowl with bread dough rising to perfection. I lift the cap and peek inside. The bread has held onto the heat of its birth and has a springy softness to it when I poke it with my finger. My eyes open wide, and I smile thinking about the savory smell of yeast coming from Mother’s oven and the love that permeated her kitchen. There is a glowing sense of sunlight with each bite of bread I take, as if the golden light that once bathed the wheat is lighting up my belly. When I bite into the bread, the crunch evokes so many warm memories. In that moment of flavor, I can hear Mother’s voice. I can hear how she spoke, as if each word contained a spoon of love, patience, and laughter. These are just a few of the memories, those paper boats of my childhood, that float by on the waves of time. I delight in chasing after them and temporarily recapturing the innocence of my childhood. I made paper boats to sail eagerly folded by tiny hands floated them in streams of rain now they float in stream of memories a paper boat and a blue moon colorful smiles of childhood the paper boat sails upon the stream of curiosity like vagabond questing for childhood
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