10:17 am

today, i caught a waft of the secret cement safe we had in the corner of our family room in the house i grew up in. the safe sat quietly under the carpet everyday. always cool, always warm. it reminded me of the stairwell of my grandma's elderly folks apartment where i'd race my sisters to see who could get to the lobby first -- elevator or flying down six flights of stairs?

this unexpected waft came to me in the form of a memory, when all of a sudden, i was whisked away to the delightful age of 9, all whilst sitting at my desk in the office.

you see, age 9 that was when i could draw fabulous penguins and my 2nd grade teacher's name was mrs. shoop.