Thoughts, Reflections, and Experiences

As I sit here, I remember the first Panera I ever went to. It was in a strip mall close to my father's job. The memories rush back. One after the next. Fluidly. They move. They dance. The Old Country Buffet, where I was "8 years old" for about 3 years. The Borders, where my father and I listened to CDs in the 'Latin' music section. The movie theater, where I once lost my purse. A Pause. Moving faster, an ice cream place. Dairy Star. "Cherry-dipped vanilla ice cream, please." Every time. A Twirl. It moves west. It remembers the mini-golf course, where I first learned how to 'putt.' A Jump. Still, it moves. It remembers the Backyard Grill across the street from my father's shop, where we would get burgers for lunch. That white paper bag that I just couldn't wait to open. A Slow Fall. His shop. The smell of wood. The sight of so many colors of fabric. The sound of the upholstery stapler. A Tempo Change. Faster. The year I...