I drove down the old main road where I grew up. Past where the first cinema used to be. Past the Chinese restaurant that is now a healthy breakfast place. Past the vacant lot that was once our Royal Bank, the one where my mom got me my first bank book. Sitting there at the stoplight, I looked at the sidewalks I used to walk on. I squinted and saw myself there. The ghost of little girl me. She was kicking at pebbles in the heat, waiting for mom to come out of Steinberg’s grocery store. I could hear her humming a tune to herself as she drew hearts on the wall with her hand. She turned suddenly, shaded her eyes from the sun, and looked at me in my car. She didn’t seem to recognize me, but waved anyway. The light turned green before I had a chance to wave back.
A Writing Experiment