I ran across this torn photo while looking through a box of mementos. That’s me upstairs, on the left, squinting. Mrs. Pearson ran the show.
My jaw drops when I realize this was 60 years ago. I am also fascinated by the clues my six year old self wears, writ large. At least from where I find myself sitting today.
I look longingly at my young self. I am aware of the many pieces here, already in place, that would continue to grow into the self I inhabit today.
This is an excerpt from my post on Medium today. Click the M icon above to read the whole story.