Days Gone By

A memory. I’d say seven years ago; it looks like summer when I was six. The end of another day in Panama City Beach, before it was filled with skyscraping hotels and nightclubs. Here I am on the beach with my birth mother, holding a Capri Sun for some reason and giving a thumbs-up. What an odd little kid. I wish I had a better memory of my childhood, but with every day that passes the memory of my mother slips away, bit by bit. In the picture I look happy, but how could I not be? A six-year old boy on vacation at the beach. With the tantalizing sea air and the beautiful white sand, anyone who wouldn’t be happy would be a stick in the mud. I miss these days.