I dare you to honestly say that there's not a single fibre of your being that holds onto the past like a lifeline; that there's no strand of memory that you hold dear; that there's no treasure trove of recollections that you visit once in a while because it takes you away, if only for a little while.

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Today, we were reminiscing about the absolutely retarded things we did in kindergarten. The one that cracked me up the most was telling the Annoying Other Part

"I'll ask my mommy to kill you!"

Because the potential hitmen involved got progressively older.

"I'll ask my great great great grandmother to come and kill you!"

"Then I'll ask my great great great great grandfather to kill you! He's older than your great great great grandmother!"

Then there was"Kiss my ass."

At 4, that was the foulest phrase in my dictionary. My cousin taught me that.

Adios.