A gentle story of early childhood memories, wonder, and tenderness.

Under five minute story for beginning readers.

Mom kisses Clara goodnight, whispering:

“I love you so much, sweet pea, my precious girl.”

Clara gives a tiny smile. There’s a funny thought whirling around in her head.

Mommy stares at her with adoring eyes and says,

“Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for being you. Nothing matters more than keeping you safe and happy!”

Clara thinks:

“Maybe I’ll pretend I’m invisible! No one can see me if I hide my smile. Isn’t that silly?”

“Goodnight, sweet dreams, my Clara-bear.”

Clara remembers somethingโ€ฆ something from so long ago โ€ฆ. but like a dream, the beginning fades before she can catch it. A hazy and warm mixture, like a half-remembered hug.

“My sweet girl, what’s on your mind? Those big eyes have stories to tell. What adventures are you dreaming of?” 

Clara won’t say. Maybe this special feeling needs no words. Sometimes, her mom almost seems to understand, as though she, too, was there once in that magic place.

“Sleep well, my angel,” her mom smiles, switching off the lights.

Clara is one year old. There’s so much about the world she doesn’t get yet. However, she knows stuff that grown-ups have forgotten. Clara doesn’t say many words. How could some silly sounds explain everything swirling around in her head–colors, songs, that happy feeling when they go to the park? The truth is, Clara could talk a long time ago. But she has waited because those secret memories are the BEST if you’re not busy making words. The perfect big-girl sentence is coming soon, though! Until then, she practices a bit each night when she’s alone.

When she was a tiny baby, Dad wrote a poem about her that got tucked under her crib when it got wobbly. Mom felt really bad when she found out what happened, but Dad said that once you squish a poem, it doesn’t stand up straight again. Luckily, there were still two lines at the end that were saved and hung on the wall beside Clara’s bed:

“She sees all the colors no one else sees โ€“

 Just look in her eyes for a week if you please!”

Early childhood memories can be beyond words.

Tonight, she whispered: “Teddy!”

Her sleepy teddy bear with the floppy ear twitched at the foot of the bed.

“Are you asleep?”

“Kinda,” Teddy mumbled.

“I forgot that I wasn’t asleep, then suddenly I was!” Clara announced.

“Okay, what is it now?”

“What’s the word for something really happy… it surprises you… kind of likeโ€ฆ but you don’t even know why? Teddy, what’s the word?”

“Chocolate cake?” Teddy offered.

“I don’t think so,” said Clara.

“You can only get so close sometimes with grown-up words,” sighed Teddy.

Clara agreed. “Maybe I’ll never quite explain it,” Clara said sadly. “Maybe they don’t have the right words here.”

“Maybe not,” Teddy said. “They talk funny anyway. Using one small word like it to mean a whole bunch of stuff. ‘Chocolate cake’ is an example โ€“ sometimes it might taste good… but more than good, like how we know good…”

“I need a wordโ€ฆ” Clara mused

“Sleep a little,” Teddy advised, already nodding off.

“Will I always stay a part of that other place?” Clara asked quietly.

“Always,” mumbled Teddy. “The words here…they aren’t the right shape.”

Clara closed her eyes, lost in that warm and shimmery feeling as memories floated by. Someday, she’d tell them everything…but not yet…not tonight…

She sighed and let sleep carry her away.

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