Happiest childhood memory.
She got lost, once. In the marketplace, in the streets. She was very small, and everyone in the neighborhood knew everyone else, so really, there was very little to fear; someone would have known her, would have picked her up and found Mamá, kept her with them till Mamá came 'round again.
Mamá had noticed, though, and just as Caragh had begun to be afraid, when she had been wandering, on her small legs, seemingly in circles, and been too proud and afraid, even at four years old, to ask for help, and almost been ready to cry, then Mamá's arms had come swooping out of nowhere.
Mamá had scolded her, and Caragh had been ashamed, but she had cried, too, for relief, and though she didn't know it at the time (for she had been the sort of child who took everything very seriously), Mamá had not been scolding very hard.
She had cried only then, in the arms of her Mamá, when she knew that she was safe. Only then.
Mamá had noticed, though, and just as Caragh had begun to be afraid, when she had been wandering, on her small legs, seemingly in circles, and been too proud and afraid, even at four years old, to ask for help, and almost been ready to cry, then Mamá's arms had come swooping out of nowhere.
Mamá had scolded her, and Caragh had been ashamed, but she had cried, too, for relief, and though she didn't know it at the time (for she had been the sort of child who took everything very seriously), Mamá had not been scolding very hard.
She had cried only then, in the arms of her Mamá, when she knew that she was safe. Only then.