Remembering

Land of my own, a volkswagen van, motherhood, trails to nowhere, complete presence. I want, I want, I want. Brought up from an interior stinginess, enforced by the sandpaper of catholic morals, smoothing any edge of longing. Worn down, it can become easier to look over, forget. Did I ever want a thing? Yes. Puppies, scooters, advanced degrees, girls. Now I remember.