Favorite Childhood MemoryIt was Sunday, so we were at church. I stare at her and him, so close but at the same time so seperate from one another.I remeber wearing a small blue dress, layers of ruffles on the skirt and white trimming. I stare up at his hardened face, whiskers poking out since he didn't have time to shave that morning. She's dressed in a softly colored button-up top and a pair of dress pants, staring straight ahead.My hands, so small they can barely fit around two of their fingers, reach out. His hands are rough and calloused from the hard work and rough surfaces they face every day. Her's are slightly rounded, smooth and well-cared for except for