Fragments of Life

I can still smell the dusty, moss-filled house I played in when I was young. The many frequent lectures from my parents still crisp as daylight. I still laugh when I think of the time I tried rollerblading indoors and broke a cabinet door. It saddens me when I think of my beloved grandmother's funeral and how naive I was at the time. And I'll never forget the first time I got scolded for putting tinfoil in the microwave yet, I continuously make that mistake much to my mothers dismay. I often find myself thinking about the time  I put a whole fuzzy dandelion in my mouth for three quarters and how that spare change made me feel like a millionaire. It's upsetting how different I was, so much more confident with my missing front teeth, or how little I cared about the things that have become my very existence. All I think now is this is it.