I was a clumsy kid and I always hid in out of the way places. I could be found atop of the refrigerator… in the pigeon coop… under the front porch… I carried a “torch” for the girl next door (she was much older) all of four. We’d have walks in the pram holding hands and sleeping together (under the trees in the park.) I recall being afraid of the dark. I loved my mom and dad. I had a sister and two brothers (with others in my future.) I got skinned knees and sutures. Certainly a silent sort, never resorting to words then when a good hand gesture would suffice. It was a very nice life for me when I remember me at three.

My youth seems to play
in the rafters of my mind,
finding comfort there.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016


5 thoughts on “MEMOIR OF ME AT THREE

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