My story: Growing Up Along the Edge

Watch out! This is the edge.As my story today shows, the edge of something can be razor sharp or a bit blurred at times. But, no matter the case, you have to be careful when approaching it.

In Growing Up Along the Edge, the narrator takes a look back at the things that made his hometown special and his childhood seem a little ominous.

In my later years, I had passed along my tales of the edge to my own children – all mature stories venturing into middle age: Of the time I lost my father’s flashlight to its bottomless depths. Or the day the wind was so strong it lifted the blackness over the edge and it rolled over our ankles in scorching waves. Of my last visit, when I celebrated my 21st birthday with a drink by its side.

Think back to what your childhood memories are like in your town. Anything unusual you’d like to share? Tell me in the comments.

That’s my story. Tell me one of yours.

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