Bad Old Days

The Bad Old Days. As one get older the mind harks back to the past to find what has been overlooked and the field of memories is not bare, in glints of forgotten items some of are not flattering for my self-esteem. There was this problem of taking umbrage for the slightest offence, or rather what my young self, saw as slight against me. There was this rage against people, who criticized me, I was full of what I today call poor man´s pride. When some kind folks gave my mother I threw the damn coat out of the window, never should we take charity; I was fifteen years at the time; mother needed that coat she jumped out of the window too – it was a year with much snow- she landed softly, grabbed the coat and went to bed with it. Oh, field of memories let me forget the past, if I can´t forgive myself. if you want to give me a winter coat I will accept, it gets cold in Algarve wintertime.