Mashed Potatoes Between My Toes

I grew up in the south. Not Gone with the Wind south but never the less I have redneck flowing through my veins. I don't remember much about growing up. I don't remember birthday parties or what I wore for Halloween. I don't remember slumber parties or weekends at Gran's. There are many blanks in my past. Sometimes I am grateful and other days I would just like to know. My imagination has a mind of its own and even if it's bad, some days I would just like to know which monster lurks in my darkness. Then I could stop wondering about the millions of possibilities of what might fill those blanks in my memory. 

But even though there are many blanks, some of them are filled with flashes. Flashes of a 5 year old little girl, hair blowing in the wind. Walking behind the mule pulling a plow. She would step as far as her 5 year old feet could reach, then drop a potato in the hole that had been dug for her. After she had dropped it in the hole, she would take her toes and push it down into the earth and giggle about the thought of mashed potatoes between her toes. The earth was cool under her bare feet. She knew no worries other than avoiding any presents left for her by the mule. The sun was warm on her face, it erased the darkness that clouded her soul. For those few moments, she was free. Just a little girl with mashed potatoes between her toes.