Weren’t we just kids?
Catching frogs in our cousin’s backyard, kicking dirt off our shoes
Rolling down hills, grass tangling in a blur of green stains and skinned knees
i can’t look through my baby pictures without crying / this is a new development / suddenly, holding two decades in my hands / is so so daunting…
Those hot July days refuse to be forgottenAll those summers spent in Morocco seared in my head with the desert’s…
It was lunchtime for us first graders, and I vividly remember everyone staring at me because I had said something…
I stepped onto the crowded bus and after weaving my way through chattering school kids, mothers carrying crying babies and…
