Childhood has its moments of magic. I was lucky enough to write about mine for Holistic Wayfarer on her site, A Holistic Journey. Visit us, friends, and share your moment of childhood magic.
Voices in my house can be loud lately. Or hushed. Both scare me. I like a happy medium.
When my sister sits in the bathtub in the dark, she tells me she is reading. I am small, not stupid. No reading happens in the dark. And I sense pain coming off of her. At age six, I can smell pain like a bloodhound.
But today is one of those enchanted days. Magic will happen. We are not in the house with loud and hushed voices today. Instead, my parents and I go exploring.
The car smells of Amish country. Cherry pie and coffee. Cows. Cider, apples and cheese.
My parents sing in the front seat. I am still young enough not to cringe, to sing along to “Down by the Old Mill Stream” and “Shine On, Harvest Moon.”
My father drives over the hills, past the horses and buggies, so…
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candidkay 
I think this piece is everything memoir should be, Kay: filled with sensory details that put readers lime me inside a place, time, and experience; foreshadowing that lets us know the story is a small part of a life that can be problematic like most of ours; and the single, reassuring bit of dialogue from Dad that means everything. I absolutely love this writing. Every word is perfect.
Thank you so much! High praise coming from someone who knows writing as you do:). I am honored. Glad it touched you!