My Childhood Pathways

Oh, that magical age of 5 -that long-ago time when memory sharpens and events recalled get compartmentalized into something more than mere wisps of mist! Infancy’s vast fog lifts! My own childhood more vividly recalled began with a country lane which took my younger sisters and me away from grandpa’s yellow house past berry bushes and rows upon rows of corn; how happily we meandered. A year passed. Away from Grandpa’s farm, I got to know new pathways. These were the streets of my new home city, where my mother remarried. I walked a labyrinth of new streets, alongside new siblings as well! In winter’s frigid cold, I’d trudge the many blocks to school and back. In summer’s heat, my many siblings and I would traipse three mile just to relish swimming at the pool, licking ice cream cones on our way home. Poor - but not in spirit - we walked and walked and walked. . . My 13th year, I walked all my city’s streets selling Christmas cards in summer. Boils festered on my arms, but I was determined to cover all my town. That fall, I bought myself a purple bike with the money I had saved. Another magical year it was! As my life picked up speed, I left my childhood behind - pedaling up grueling hills, then racing gleefully down them. Nov. 28, 2018