Despite the many years you've traveled from that very first day, you've carried the smallness with you everywhere, and with it the smell of crayons, and carousel music. It is a distant lullaby you can barely remember but remain haunted by its sparkling melody. Despite yourself, you remember. The time your parents guests arrived and you felt excited by all the commotion. Everyone was laughing and talking largely with their hands far above your head. You craned your neck in order to see over the table. No one noticed you. No one ever noticed you when the party got rolling. So, naturally you assumed that you're invisible. An indistinguishable speck of dust drifting unnoticed around the room. But with time you managed to fill the room and forget these distant echoes of pain. Now you are bigger than the table and bigger than the chair and don't need all five fingers to hold a fork, but inside the smallness endures, playing hide and seek with your consciousness. You are tall enough to see past all the fences in your neighbourhood, but you will always carry the memory of smallness tucked under your heart. Sometimes in the midst of talking and laughter you find yourself suddenly wondering whether they can see you at all. Whether you're really even distinguishable from the shimmering dust that fills the air between you and them.


  1. This is beautiful!
    I hear you and feel small too, sometimes. The memories really do always linger. For me it is in the form of a horse-carosel that played this taunting melody. Thank you for sharing!

  2. I have been your follower for a long time and I love every single post of yours. Its the elegant simplicity which hides a subtly melancholic thought that I adore the most about your writing.

    Best wishes

  3. Oh, how immensely bittersweet, but beautiful. Sometimes when my mother is busy, bustling on by me, as I sit somewhere, I'll catch her in a hug, without standing, then close my eyes and wish myself back to when my top head truly did only reach her waist, imagining myself small again, before I became five inches taller than her, even in bare feet.

    I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again (and hopefully you don't mind): I adore your writing so! I love the small details (in such a story about smallness too), you've included in this, like "...and don't need all five fingers to hold a fork..." because I'd forgotten this was true, until you said it.

    Anyway, hope you are well, dear, thanks for your sweet comment! ♥


  4. So poignant and I can relate to this oh so much. Even more so these days... I miss everything about my childhood but to go back.. I wouldnt really want to.


  5. Love these pics - so magical!

    x A

  6. wow this is true and beautiful..:)

  7. every line is so true and perfectly fits to my situation at the moment. i've got tears in my eyes while reading this.
    so sorry my bad english, but i thought you should know that i love this.

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