Letters from England

The past has a funny way of sneaking up on me when I least expect it. Sometimes, just when I find myself neck-deep in the trials of life, the fragrance of long-forgot memories will hit me full in the face, and I am given a blissful moment to relive a golden age of personal history, untarnished with hurts and confusion. I feel blessed in this way. Decades gone by, I am still frequently surrounded by the glorious days of my youth. After all, they shaped who I am and will remain a part of me forever. Why not give way to them occasionally?