I remember when green was all I could see. There was no gate in that house and it was always cloudy. The screeching metal pounded back and forth and a little chubby two-year old was my center. Sometimes he was evil and sometimes he was my favorite doll, but nonetheless I didn't love him near as much as I should've. Then there were huge planes, vomitting, sadness and meeting the desert all over again. I had been there before, but only distance memories of the inside walls shaking remained. Newness. Freshness. I resisted it. Ten years came and gone and I was still reserved about the whole situation.
I remember her pain, her panic. It wasn't her. She screamed and cried and put all of the blame on my hero. She was selfish and relentless and I don't know why. It wasn't her, that happy girl, no it was someone else. I can remember confusion and doubt and fear that the same thing would take over me as well. I remember wondering about the future, how would I take care of her, how would I cousel her, how would I prevent her from doing the unthinkable.
I remember my car breaking down, coming home late from school one day. So close to home yet it gave out and my frustration of this old beater was unleashed. I remember getting home and opening that letter. It was small, I thought. Too small to be good news. I remember that I didn't really care, I didn't want it that bad, I told myself. But I was right, it was bad news. My stomach wrenched and I couldn't control my sadness, disappointment, anger and bitterness and I vowed to contain this deep embarassing secret. I remember my parents could not counsel me but somehow I came out of that trance.
I remember being young and sweet and pure. I think I was fifteen, and I remember feeling the ultimate acceptance. I was a little nervous, sure, but it was the kind of nervous that you like to hold on to. Getting on that field I was waving my practiced wave, staring out into the crowd of supporters, even if they didn't love me. I was convinced then that I had not a care in the world nor a fault at my peers and I was happy. I thought I was beautiful but looking back on pictures my opinion has changed. It came as fast as it went.
I remember when we woke up that morning, nine years ago today, and my mom rolled out of bed and told us they were born. Two of them! One boy and one girl- precious little newborn babies that we had all been anticipating. They were little, but they were alive. I loved them more than any baby I had ever held, yet I had to wait a few months to meet them. I remember being so thrilled and loving the thought of twins.
1 comment:
The mix of good, and bad, memories makes these an interesting and revering post. I remember my disappointment, no one could console me but myself. Sometimes thats for the best though. I also, remember the emotions that little ones bring. The oldest comes with responsibility. You cant get mad when a little three year crys cause you wont give him your snack pack, but at least you can get happy when they come flying out of their nap room, running down the hall screaming your name--their young structure not yet keen on balance. They end up falling face first to the ground, you cant help but laugh and sympathize at the same time. Their first reaction is to cry, no one knows exactly what the pain they are feeling is, but you can see the stretched distraught look on their face. Haha, what an adventure it is to grow up.
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