Memories are like ghosts, really. You go about your day just as you always do— wash the dishes, straighten the couch, make coffee, drive to work. And just when you think everything is normal, you walk through some gossamer thread like a spider’s web across your path. Suddenly you’re not walking up the stairs to your office, you’re walking up the stairs in a lighthouse on Cape Cod. You’re peeking through one of it’s little windows toward the blue ocean. Then the memories fly fast like a reel of film spinning from the projector.

Grab. Grab. Grab, you think. But time is a slippery thing.

© 2022 Katie Baker