Passing on the Past

We don’t need it anymore.

A memory popped up the other day. Then a series of them stopped by. All of them from my teen years; not a happy time. I could feel the weight of them, the sadness they were steeped in. Some of them brought the shame my mother wanted me to feel. I was standing in my kitchen, doing the dishes when this happened. No rhyme nor reason for their arrival. As I…