Poetry

Childhood Memory

End of a chapter or the beginning to an end?

It depends.

The world is full of people who lived 

Or are living

Childhood.

The hoods scream at the children who are grown adults

Don’t forget about me like I knew you would!

Reeling at the neurons to fire more!

Hippocampus? You’re on my time

Do you hear me?

You see, I reflect on my past all the time.

Doesn’t make sense.

But does it make me nostalgic?

I mean, nostalgia is just remembering a memory with fondness.

But what if I replay a conversation over and over to my liking?

What’s with all the questions?

Hypersensitive to the movies playing in my 

Hippocampus. 

Wait, Nicole! You can’t miss this!

Remember when your Mom told you she was better than you?

You were standing in that grocery store.

The two of you.

About to choose.

Isn’t this my grocery time?

Ugh, the conversation is muffled and the context is gone.

Okay, okay.

I admit, I took one sentence and blew it out of context.

Isn’t that nostalgia?

I could take all the hurtful comments my Mom said and let that sit in my hippocampus

For what purpose?

I forgive my Mom.

All the hardness of that memory just broke

Allowing my truth to speak life again.

That’s just one memory

I’m exhausted.

Childhood speaks of many memories.