Memories are made of this

Tell your parents you love them, while it is still day.

MY twiggy arms clung to her neck and I laid my head on her back. Beneath my ear I could hear the rhythmic pounding of her heart and I could feel her regular and steady footsteps as she paced the perimeters of grandma’s house. I inhaled deeply the sweaty but heavenly smell of her back and hair. I could feel her arms which she had folded behind her to form a comfortable seat for me.