I walked into my bathroom that was still under renovation, seeing tape strung up on the walls. How interesting it was to my young eyes--impossible to resist. I peeled off a strip and stood on my tippy-toes to plaster it in a different place, above my head. I giggled in mischievous delight and skipped out of the room.  

My mother loomed imperiously over my helpless self. I knew she knew. 

“Helen, did you touch the tape?” 

But how? I was so deliberate, so careful not to mess it up too badly. I just wanted to play with it. Fear and guilt flooded my heart. “I’m sorry” was still on the tip of my tongue when I felt myself start crying. I saw my mother’s gaze soften through my tear-blurry vision. She scooped me up and hugged me tight. I drank in her sweet comfort, sniffles subsiding, swiping at my eyes. She rocked me gently in her arms, slowly, slowly. I whimpered a “sorry” as she set me back down on the floor. 

“Should I make you some mac and cheese?” 

“YES!” I immediately perked up at the sound of my favorite food. My mother strode over to the cabinets and rustled for the golden blue box of deliciousness. She set a pot of water onto the stove and got to work.

Minutes later, the creamy taste of gooey cheese filled my mouth. I chewed vigorously, and a huge grin spread across my face. I felt so happy. 

A bolt of searing nostalgia lances through my heart--my eyes burn with the once-forgotten sensation of tears.  I shiver against the warmth of the summer breeze. Yes, memories… straddling between the elusive future and the burning past. Churning, churning, churning myself anew from the outside in. 

And just as fast as it had come, it disappears. I shiver again, shake myself back to the present. What was that, just now? I blink hard and jump onto the railing of my porch to watch the sunset. Mac and cheese… I can’t help but start to cry.