memories
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I hear the waterfalls. The powerful rumbling drowns out those memories – Memories of regret and calamities. I hear the trees. The crisp rustling of the leaves whisper over my thoughts, As they try to rationalize the consequences I’ve bought. I hear the rain. Every fall invades my conscience. Each drop a welcoming interruption. Finally,
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I was returning home from school, walking down Winona St. It was a foggy day, and I tightened my grip on the the straps of my backpack when I noticed the fog becoming thicker. I already knew I was dreaming- I wasn’t in school and didn’t live here anymore. But there was no threat
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It is my Mom’s birthday today, and I forgot. Usually I would send her flowers, write her a poem, or make her something cheesy that only she would like. One year I made her felt flowers, each pedal listing a reason why I loved her. More popular gifts involved trips to the dollar store down
Simply Kayla 