Memory

You're welcome, Bob. I'm sorry we couldn't stay longer and do more, but knowing you had a bed to sleep in made me feel like we did something to help. Hope you and Carl managed the rest.

The poetry prompt for yesterday was to write about a memory about yourself that you don't remember but you've heard so often that it seems like you do or should anyway. The only thing I could think of, that I know I don't remember except through being told it so many times was when Dad brought home a puppy and I was terrified. Her name was pronounced Pegeen, btw.

Lady Pequeen’s Arrival

Some fears are inborn
I guess. I am told
that the arrival
of Peggy
in the kitchen,
an eight-week-old
beagle pup,
sent me, a two-year-old
from the floor to
standing on the table
in the blink of an eye.
Maybe I flew,
no one knows, I don’t remember,
but I’m still afraid of
dogs.

--Barbara