The Grudge vs. Holding a Grudge

I can recall sitting in that large pine to the west of my childhood home when I was about ten years old. I was an avid tree climber and my sister and I were enjoying a cup of imaginary tea at the tiptop of this tree which still stands tall. My mother stood at the base and hollered for us to come down, as she often did. I told her to hold on while I had just one more cup of tea. As I reached back for the "kettle" I fell - down, down down. Spinning around each branch and finally landing at the feet of my Mother.

Without a scratch, bump, or bruise I walked off.

15 years later I'm not certain if the fall is to blame, but I have clearly developed some lapse in my memory.  Perhaps this may not be such a bad thing. . .