5

This usually starts to happen in June.  My whirlwind of memories that come flooding back to me each Summer. Some memories are fresh; wounds still sting a bit.  Others are older, and have a bit of a scab on them, some are building their callus, so I cannot feel them as much.  Then I have the JOY memories, when I look at my son and memories are still at my surface.  Like wearing my heart on my sleeve.  

There is always a day, I simply need to download my brain to let this all out.  It's the same story every year, however each year it is new an different.  

In the span of a year - 

It all began with breakfast.