I remember being three or four years old. My mom would turn on my little cassette of lullabies and lie down next to me until I fell asleep each afternoon, the curtains drawn, darkness tricking me into a nap. Snuggled up to my mom, I felt loved, safe. The feeling is so real, even twenty-five years later, I can still see the light hitting the back of those curtains, feel the warmth of her arms holding onto me, hear her voice gently singing me to sleep.
Time is a funny thing. I can reach back and touch that memory even though thousands of others have slipped by unnoticed. Makes me wonder what I will hold onto from now.
Tonight, I share a little piece of me from twenty-five years ago, a song I caught myself singing while I made dinner tonight. As a kid, I swore it was written for me and my mom. Now, it means even more. A time capsule from the past.