I remember golden light on the december windowsill, spring chairs and harry potter books, cold toes on beige carpet, dancing around to piano music, sewing a dress on the dress form, swallowed in yarn and rainbow pens.

I remember dancing along to the beat, rhinestones on our faces, silk purple dresses and high heels, tiaras and fashion shows, catching the raindrops on our fingertips.

I remember caring the children, singing out of anguish, hushed to myself to avoid being heard, little shoes and screaming.

Standing out in the rain with the red and blue umbrella, up on my tiptoes, posing for the camera as I let the poison fall. 

Running across the see-saw, keeping my balance, then checking the time-lapse of my feat. Cartwheels and getting chased by the dog, laughing as I hit the ground. Crying as it hurt, but loving it all the same.

These memories made me. Insignificant they were, but they're what mold you. 

I miss my childhood, but I'm never letting go. It'll follow me around and follow you around, and you can continue to ignore it, or you can let it shape you. Shape, not consume. If you push it away, or try to live in it, it consumes you. So let it be. Let it have been there, that's what was, and this is now. 

Let it be, and breathe. 

This is now, and I love every minute of it.