Early Memory 3
It was raining, and dark. But I had an umbrella that I desperately wanted to use. I must have been eight or so. It was pink, my umbrella. It had a little sphere on the tip of it, in the middle of the canopy. The outer part of the canopy was ruffles. It had a curved handle. It was wonderful and it was mine. I danced in my driveway. I sang "Singin' in the Rain" as I twirled about. I gave umbrella rides to the ants that passed my way. They took turns climbing on as I turned my umbrella upside down for them. I gently spun them around and gave them lovely carousel joyrides. I miss my pretty, pink umbrella; perhaps I miss the girl who owned that pretty pink umbrella.