“How can I remember the good memories,
when there’s always something
that leads to the darkness?”
Some people learn to fly a kite on hot summer days, and imagine they’re the ones flying through the clouds. They remember playing in the sand. Laughing. Feeling the sunshine on their skin, building castles fit for kings and queens while the melody of waves hum in tune like a royal anthem.
But when I think back, I remember the sunburns on my fair skin that left behind disappearing handprints. The sand ending up in places he liked to explore in the dark. I see him. Standing in my doorway. Silhouetted in hell fire with a gleam in his eye. Like I was a treat for a sweet tooth befitting the wicked.
So, tell me, how do I tell my son about the good memories, when there’s always something that leads to the darkness?
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