Four years, dated 13, then George.
Prompt: Write a memoir in six words, no more, no less.
Should have had more stupid fun.
Smacked head, crawling back, crown intact.
Between sound and silence, I dance.
Overthought it, then said “f--- it.”
Hip fracture, tracheostomy; skiing, snorkeling out.
Many mistakes, little ambition, no regrets
“Behave yourself.” Now they tell me!
You remember me. This is enough.
Dancing. Dreaming. Daring.