My mind is wandering, a thing it often does when I’m sitting in front of a blank, gaping page. I’m trying to force it down a certain path – find a topic, I’m saying to myself. Find something serious, current…what’s happened recently that I can write about? It won’t listen, though, my mind. My mind has a mind of its own, I suppose. It has continued to wander back to my childhood like a stubborn child who sees a new toy in the grocery store and with sudden, unexpected strength, grabs hold of the attending adult and drags the parent towards the toy. Write about this, it tells me. I don’t know why it wants to write about this foggy, childhood memory. It is nothing extraordinary, just a snippet of time and a glimpse I cannot even guarantee is true. Regardless, it demands to be released.

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