Yesterday I spent the day telling the old stories with my mother. We laughed about the good times. And laughed harder about the bad ones.

Turned out that we were allies all along- only had fought solo battles for a while there.

The history is in my bones. The stories are written in the cartiledge. Ask me why my knee pops. There's a story there- stored in there. Deep. Behind the knee cap.

Then it was Kenga's turn to divulge the past. For the first time- he held center stage.

Many ghosts came out to play, and some of them were sent packing forever.