Charged with holding a small mirrored medicine cabinet, my tiny hands were frozen in fear that I would drop it. I was a three year old sitting on an old truck seat moving to a new home.
The new home was a dairy farm full of delights even a three year old noted. It would be my home until I was fifteen years old. I still consider that farm my home.
***
The Bag Lady 
Isn’t it amazing how we form attachments and hold them, the memory holds true.
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And “reliving” certain moments keeps those memories
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Yes indeed, it certainly does.
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