Paradise of Memories
As home is branded into our being, our paradise of memories is etched into the branding. It is a permanent and fond attachment to the well-known place as we entered into life’s long wanderings. It is like our umbilical cord that stretches for a million miles and never breaks loose. It stays with us as we settle into a new environment that we call home, but it is not home. It is a place where we happen to be, full of strangers that become friends we meet along the way.
The home in me started years ago where I frolicked and ran up and down the hills, the only hills that I knew of in the world and in the only town there was in the Universe, my Ashtabula. It was my town and my paradise of memories that was branded into my being and that stayed with me and will remain until the very last day.
I wrote this for the writing club I belong to, to be published in their anthology book. It will probably look a lot different after they start editing it. I hope it stays the same.
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