A memory.
I had never been one for God, thought often in childhood I was brought to his house. I recall one summer, stuck daily in a christian day camp. Projects and songs and stories and lessons about God all faint recollections…
What I remember most is the blackberry bush.
Heavy with ripe berries we were warned not to eat.
Like Adam and Eve, we listened.
With nimble child fingers we stuffed our little mouths full enjoying the taste of the fruit as quickly as we could without getting caught.
I still feel satisfyingly wicked when I eat them.
