Celebration Day — twenty-nine

A memory becomes a celebration once it is reunified with the present, which is what a memory is

...like putting some gentle oil on my face for protection from the cold and winds that await me outside today; the same action which reminds me repeatedly of his mother doing the same on my son's beautiful and tender face two decades ago.

The memory and the recalling, both are love. And What is love if not celebratory acknowledgement?

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