I bet I'll forget the clammy shirt collar, sheepskin lined coat and brown angola school jumper, uncle-close to my skin in the September sun.
The swapped knee socks that offer brief relief to my weary, stinging soles.
The male jogger lunging in jest, almost toppling my heavy load.
The cherry red hatchback stopping eight miles in and two men offering a ride to me, a trembling twelve year old who forgot her busfare.
I remember thinking when I reach home, eat and rest I bet I'll forget.