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Feb 2012
I remember taking my time.
I remember patience.
I remember when meaning was something I assigned, not something I looked for.
I remember when my hair was gold and my eyes were blue and the smile on my face reflected truth.
I remember not needing.
I remember before I had to.
I remember when numbers, were numbers.
I remember when thoughts didn't have a page length.
I remember seeing what is, what was, before I was told to see this way, not that way.
I remember before all I could say about understanding was "I remember."
I remember understanding.
I remember not wishing I were somewhere else.
this was a writing exercise, but I like parts of it sometimes.
Kendra Canfield
Written by
Kendra Canfield  Washington
(Washington)   
520
 
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