I Remember

“I Remember”

It's cool and the air smells like ocean. The moon is shining and everything is cool and beautiful. I can feel the sand on my feet. I shine a light on the sand and suddenly I can see tiny crabs everywhere- they move out of the way so quickly you almost can't see them. They are surrounding me on the beach.

It's so cold I'm losing feeling in my thighs. My pants are too thin and I can feel the wind through them. I have so long to walk and I feel like crying, but its too cold. Traffic sounds everywhere and its gray and dry and my lips are cracked.

I'm standing on grass and its nighttime. I can hear the crickets and sounds of dishes softly clinking. People washing up. There's a tiny window of light and everyone looks so calm and happy in there. No one knows I'm standing here. The wind is warm, the air is thick and dark and silent.

I remember the tree outside my house. It was a magnolia. And the blossoms were so fragrant that you could smell them inside the house.

I remember eating push ups from the 7-11. They would melt so fast that I had to lick the ice cream off my arm.

I remember my grandmother's funeral. Mom made me kiss her dead body in the casket. Her skin felt like paper on my lips.

I remember her swimming in the public pool and then getting into the hot car and sweating.

I remember hiding behind the big chair in the living room and eating dog treats. They were crunchy and salty.

I remember biting my arm until I left a mark. It felt good to my jaw.

I remember the plastic animal toys that grandpa would buy me at the zoo. They came out of the machine so hot that you had to hold them with a napkin.

I remember getting sick on the drive to the mountains. I would lay in the back seat and pray for it to be over.

Turning over the pillow to the cold side. It's against August and the air is thick with insects, even in the middle of the night.

Waking up before dawn and walking to the ocean. The sand cold beneath my feet, and the salt of the air stings my eyes and leaves a residue inside my mouth.

Sitting under the honey suckle bush in the front yard. When the flowers were looming I would let the bees crawl over my arms and face. Their tiny legs on my lips.

I remember the sun, shining, striking my face and body. Yellow beams, flowing energy.

I remember the song, the playing. Dancing people singing with me and around me. Everyone together I did not feel alone.

I remember running, playing, teams, a ball. Green grass and mud. Laughter, sweat. I remember the pure joy of fatigue.

I remember the sticker burrs, jammed into the sides of my feet after walking barefoot in the grass.

I remember the sound of the locust during the hottest part of the day. Coming from the trees in the front yard.

I remember chasing lizards into the hillsides where they lived under the green plants. Catching them when they were warming themselves in the sun.

I remember eating home made ice cream just after the lid was taken off. And my teeth aching, rushing to eat it before it melted to slush.

I remember walking in the forest on a cold fall day and a trough of running water. Drinking the cold water with my hands.

I remember falling off a wagon, in the Pioneer Village, I skinned my knee, completely clean. My mother held a wet paper towel to it and I would alternate between cool relief and burning pain.

I remember creosote after the rain. A city of concrete and glass and metal, momentarily transformed back again to the open desert.

I remember waking in the middle of the night. Charging down the long hallway to my mother. An impossible distance to close; with my nightmares streaming along behind me.