They probably remember me as a smell or a pattern. Perhaps
I am a hand or one of the hands that rubbed their backs as they fell
asleep on blue cots. I am fairly sure that puzzles and science
lessons have disappeared from their memories. Very elaborate
projects may have melted into a cheerful turn of hand.
A Chinese dragon we labored on for weeks is a splash
of happy color experienced in the moment before sleep.
– kw
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