A memory passed in front of my eyes today. It was as real as the poison ivy on my legs.
My mind has not visited there in a long, long time. I have just about trained it to not go in that direction. Seems that area of my past causes bumps and bruises and other assorted boo-boos.
It was a wonderful memory for a moment, until that split second when your mind jumps back off the track to nowhere and you remember that it was only a memory.
It smelled wonderful; tasted delicious. It was just wonderful to every one of my senses.
Some have written that we should not be sad about what we've lost, but happy that we ever had it to begin with. That little ditty, along with the saying, "Abscence makes the heart grow fonder", I think is bulllshit.