I can still hear my mother’s voice. “Stop turning around, why must you walk backwards?”
It was fun. I liked to see what I was leaving behind. I liked to see the smiles on people’s faces as they walked towards me.
Mothers hand on my shoulder, turning me the right way around. Not so much fun, watching the backs of people walking ahead of us.
Were they going somewhere nice?
Would they buy the pink and white heather from the lady standing on the corner?
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