Those Days, So Far Away

That was really insensitive, he said.

Insensitive?
Is that all that remains from the memory that brings back the ecstasy of my childhood? That's certainly not how I remember it--it was always a sort of carefree joy unleashed from the soul, for young souls have the least experience but know the most about the intensity of the truth, even if they can't fully understand it. Me and my sis, twirling around in circles in the white light of the morning, spinning to the music that starts as part of the air and soon becomes a part of us. The elation, the rapture, the wonder of those morning hours. Then, it was as much a part of us as our fingers, our toes, our faces, our hearts. It was what we did, it was what we lived for. Apparently it's now different.

I thought maybe you'd remember those days we used to dance, I reply.