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I'm taking a walk down memory lane.
I pass the beach from my toddler years.
Even though my mind was young then, I can still remember
the of smell the salty breeze.
Benedict, my brother, and Jayce, my sister
stand on the snowy white sand beckoning to me.
They call me to play with them.
I want to, but I move on.
I walk into a small apartment. It's walls are pure white,
and the interior is empty.
I smell the slightly acrid stench of wet paint.
This is my childhood home, where i spent my years as a young child.
As I walk past one of the bedrooms,
a voice calls out to me from inside.
It's Benedict. He's asking me to unpack my stuff.
I walk over to him, only to find myself stepping onto green grass.
Looking around, I recognize it.
Its the garden of my bungalow.
I spent my young teenage years here.
I turn to see Jayce waving at me.
She wants me to help her weed the garden.
I bend down to grab a shovel on the grass.
When I touch it, it turns into a car key.
In front of me now is a beautiful white Mercedes.
Benedict and Jayce grab me
and shove me inside.
"Thats your present, little buddy."
Benedict flashes a toothy grin at me.
I beam with happiness.
It's my first car.
And sister and brother bought it for me.
I open the door and sit inside.
Suddenly I'm sitting on a chair
by a hospital bed.
My hands are wrapped around Benedict's,
and I realize I'm crying.
He smiles at me with his trademark grin
and tells me to stop crying.
he reaches for my shaking hands with his other.
When it touches me,
it turns into Jayce's hand.
She shakes it, then gives me a hug.
I watch her back as she runs off to catch her flight.
I rub my hand again,
feeling the warmth of my siblings.
I close the photo album.
Laying it down, I proceed to
clean the graves of Benedict and Jayce.
Benedict died of cancer in his lungs.
He left in his sleep.
Jayce's plane never made it to Japan.
They only found her left arm.
I never sold the Merc.
It reminds me of the times I used
to drive Sister and Brother around.
Reminds me of the times we laughed on a
dumb joke someone said in the car.
The past is like a dream.
You never know how much they mean to you
until they're gone.
Drying my tears, I leave the graveyard,
start my Mercedes,
and drive back to the present.
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Title:
Trip Down Memory Lane
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Artist:
Leviathan D Constance
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Description:
I, even though I'm only 15, have had my fair share of of having people I love die.
It never really bothers you until that person dies.
So I hope you can see the meaning behind this little story and treasure
your loved ones while they are still here.
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Date:
10/04/2009
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Tags:
trip
down
memory
lane
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