How to Not Forget

 Sitting in the grass, her small toes pressed into the dirt, the baby watched the goings on in the garden with wonder in her eyes.

    There was a whole world to marvel at before her; the garden's inhabitants awhirl with comings and goings, frolics and twirlings, movings and makings. For in front of her little self, everything was alive with fairies.

    It was curious, the incredible sight before her to which no one else was paying attention. The others, their whirl was of a different sort entirely, and she thought that sort rather silly when there was such magnificent things to see. They must have forgotten how to see, she thought. She didn't think about this long, though — because she was paying attention.

    And when she cried because she was taken away, it was because she knew somehow in the back of her little mind, that someday she, too, would forget to pay attention.

    Then again, maybe not. 

    Because the gleam in her mama's eye as she was laid to sleep told her that some grownups don't forget entirely.

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