GloMag GloMagMarch2019 - Page 263

I’M EIGHT I remember, not long ago, they loved me: my father, my mother, and teachers. I remember I was their princess, not long ago. On my birth dates, yes eleven and one, every month on the date of my birth, sometimes, if on weekend, twelve at night, they’d hug me, and kiss me, and love me and promise to take me out next day. Not anymore. I remember, the eyebrows arched on my birthday, one, the last one. I remember, not long ago, my father would carry me piggyback 263