Tadpoles & Bruised Knees

My youth was in green. Green trees, grass-stained kneecaps, frogs in the summertime. It's a strange time to look back on. It begs for nostalgia but keeps itself distant from the present. Reminiscing often feels otherworldly, as if someone else lived through your memories and you can only watch them fade into the past. Here are some essays and prose poems reflecting on childhood memories and exploring personal growth.