It never ceases to amaze me how random people will visit my memory house. Some, stop, put up their feet, and make themselves at home, while others, just pop in for a brief visit. Nobody knocks. Someone may visit that haven't been by for awhile, while others seem to drop by almost daily. There are those that have become ghosts of themselves, so faded with time that I'm no longer sure if the memory is true or clouded by pixie dust. They haunt the corners, pushing the cobwebs around. And those that bang about loudly, when perhaps, a whisper...or even silence, would be preferred. Some, are more welcome than others. Lately, it seems, you've moved in and made yourself at home, even though the fit is a bit tight, the ceiling, perhaps, a bit low. Even when you are not in residence, I know you are never far, sometimes off for a short stroll about the property. But I never doubt you will visit soon, in all your technicolor glory. A little pixie dust doesn't even dull your edges. Actually, to be honest, I doubt you really visit, I think you've probably taken the guest room. It's okay though, I wouldn't be me without the entire collection.
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