Childhood memories

For the first few years after my dad’s passing, it was really hard to talk about him and even harder to recall memories. Because with the memories came the obvious grasp that my dad is gone, that my family's best years had gone. But as the years went by, remembering and recounting tidbits from my childhood started doing the opposite: they started bringing me a sense of peace. I found my self going again and again through my childhood photo albums and somehow, my childhood memories became frames. As a mother, I have been going through those memory frames again and again, thanks to my children. They brought my childhood again, my memory frames and somehow made me realize that I continue to have a a deep connection with that part of myself that so many adults grow out of. But my memories remain somehow mysterious, I cannot see faces, but mainly cheerful moments, the wonderful, playful, romantic, free spirited world of children, of childhood really.