Time’s Up! Memories percolate like mud beneath the snow when sudden thaw surprises. Just as those moist patches are revealed to stare unblinkingly at winter sky, in that same way, when years have melted down, our younger eyes appear; they scan forgotten scenes and unexpected visions. Today the memories of childhood focus on a sea of veils and patent leather shoes, on nervous giggles muffled by a First Communion Book.
White gloved hands are poised to mime the piety of those who knead their rosaries against the altar rail. The texture of the host is felt, the taste, like Cream of Wheat. Childhood drifts away like snow we scoop and fling into the wind, as though our innocence was meant to float beyond the blades that plow us into mounds of disbelief.