These days I find myself drifting into memories of my childhood.
I think of the way we used to fight for our places in our classrooms, claiming them ours as though that part of the world belonged to us, our names etched in the corner of our desks and carved in the walls of the hallways, marking our presence.
The way our voices raced to climb each other's until we felt like we were heard.
The way we crashed and burned and laughed our days away.
The way we left parts of ourselves everywhere we went, burying them under the earth for someone to find when we are gone.
And the way the mountains echoed back our names when we shouted them in the dark.
