Your Quiet Years

I remember that year, that time, that place: the dark red walls, the towering camphor trees, the loud, uninhibited echoes, and the cool breeze that swept through on summer days. I also remember how we made a mess, acting up without restraint, laughing or crying without a care. But why have I forgotten the figure that should have been so clear? It turns out the only one I forgot was you, my boy.

It was only much later that I realized I had left the past behind in the flow of time, never to think of it again. It turns out there is nothing one cannot let go of. You just have to learn to forgive yourself. I managed it. What about you?