In my Childhood Memories

I remember that bright warm ball in the deep blue sky, surrounded by big fluffy cotton balls. The warm blanket feeling that you get when you lift your head, spread your arms, and welcome the rays coming from above. I don’t remember the clothes I was wearing coming from larger family members and strangers, not fitting my tiny figure. I remember the leaves on the trees being thick and green. And the many adventures I had on the limbs. The make shift swing on one of them my father made out of a plastic chair and some left over rope. But I don’t remember having to take it down because the rope was too cheap to last. I remember playing with my neighbor making mud pies, camping outside, and jumping on her trampoline. I don’t remember the evil stares her grandmother gave because she thought money determined morals and a right way of life. I remember being homeschooled. Waking up at nine to start and ending when the school bus drove by. Then being put in public school where I made more friends and my mind was opened to new things. But I don’t remember why I was placed there, when child services was called by those who believe they know all. When a lady asked a lot of questions But only found That even though this family was meager, they were still meant to be together.