Beautiful, touching, gifted words… 🙂
I took them without asking. I wasn’t conniving. I just had the sense of entitlement that comes with childhood, the kind you can afford to have when the whole world belongs to you. They were an integral part of my adventure. I needed them to explore. So I took them, without thinking and without asking, and made my way out the front door.
And it wasn’t until they slipped from my hands that I knew they didn’t belong to me. It wasn’t until I heard the crack on the cement that I knew what I had done was wrong. It wasn’t until I handed the broken pieces back to my mother that I knew I had robbed her of something.
The binoculars were my grandfather’s, a surviving fragment of a life long gone, a collection of my mother’s memories compressed into prisms and lenses. And I had shattered them.
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