What was it like?

There are times when light floods in-
That pure essence of joy mixed with sadness.
Memories: the bright shadows,
The high stars above a dark night.
They are soft wistful whispers of past happiness,
The slow, soft recollections of lessons learned.
Of loved ones no longer quite so near,
And the feeling of missing who you once were:
A child- innocent, careless, unafraid.
Moments gain importance as you fight to remember:
What was it like to be tucked into bed by your mother?
Or to be carried on your father’s shoulders?
To meet someone and trust them immediately?
To sit on your grandfather’s lap?
They fade till all that is left is a paler light
Bright enough to conjure up past hopes
But lacking enough to make you wish for more.