Having nothing to do with chocolate chip cookies

when I was little (well little-r), and I was not yet the eldest of four children, and at least two of them were only little wisps of thoughts somewhere else, I ran around barefoot with my little brother picking up cicada bugs and drinking strawberry milk at my grandmothers house.

and then my mom was pregnant with a little baby child and I prayed desperately for a baby sister, since I already had a brother, and we made many trips to the midwife's, so many it seemed that my childhood memories are completely enveloped in midwifery things.  I learned about Polaroid and secret candy drawers, and mommy-daughter lunch trips, tears of joy, and being as helpful as a five-year-old can be.
the midwives were always nice, and that's probably why those trips are so memorable.  i almost always went with my mother to check ups and things, and even went to my sister's births even though I was young and younger.  and those times of waving the thick picture back and forth to see it come alive, and sucking on a lollipop from the special candy drawer, and learning how to knit when my mother was at the hospital, and the excitement in the little things, all those little details that I still remember make it sweet.
we moved away when I started to get older, and so there's no spoiled memories of that place, when the midwives had to move, or the buildings changed, or I got too old for the candy drawer, or the Polaroid got too outdated and was most likely chucked.  none of that happened.  those memories stayed there, frozen in time, attached to myself from when my little sisters were born.  when i was five and then eight, and a free spirit who loved climbing trees and babies and Polaroids.

and sometimes that's just the sweetest taste.

lillian.