I sat in my rocking chair, stared out the window, and began drifting away into a long lost memory. I was a young girl. I ran around the field just outside the window that I was looking though right now. The weather was just as it was that day many years ago.
“Hey, Annie!” my brother shouted from about a hundred yards away. “There are so many twigs here we could make into a picture frame for Mom! You know she would just love that.”
I ran over to him in a hurry and quickly gathered as many as we could, for the weather was taking a turn for the worst. The sky was closing in on us and dark clouds were consuming any daylight there was not five minutes ago.
We ran back inside with the twigs to do just what we planned to do. Make that picture frame. We were so proud of it, but looking back, it looked rather atrocious and poorly put together. But our mother loved it nonetheless.
As I snap back into reality from my memory I looked up at the wall to see that very picture frame we made my mom years ago. I then realize a memory is only a moment in time remembered.