Sometimes memories are like the evening tide. While standing still, the memories slowly lap at your toes and before you know it, you are in knee-deep. Other times, they crash over you like the unexpected surf driven by an unseen storm.
This week, I was straightening the lobby at the clinic where I work. I was restacking the magazines and sorting the children's books when I was broadsided by memories from 40 years ago.
Hundreds of hours of my early childhood was spent in waiting rooms and lobbies while my younger brother was treated by speech pathologists, physical rehab specialists, chiropractors and pediatricians. While the professionals helped my brother overcome the challenges presented by a high fever as an infant, I read books.
The Children's Book of Bible Stories, Little Golden Books, and Highlights for Children.
Some might think it wasn't fair that he was sick and I had to sit for hours waiting for him. I think it was wonderful.