Memory is Imagination

Written for prompt: What do you remember

I remember soft summer breezes, swaying grasses in a field. I remember racing down the driveway to be the first to get the mailbox. Then racing back for ice cream. I remember hot summer days spent running through sprinklers with hands stained by melted Popsicles and being sticky from melted ice cream. I remember the smell of motor oil accompanied by clangs and clatters. The feel of smooth metal under my hands, my feet kicking back and forth, then the gentle purr of an engine after being fixed. I remember the smell of dirt and the feel of a wooden handle in my hand as I turn up dirt. I remember the smell of fresh veggies and fruit. I remember the tastes of them too. The firm crunch of a pear or carrot, the juicy flow of tomatoes and berries. I remember a green, green yard with a wooden playhouse and swing set. I remember juice from watermelon flowing down my chin. I remember spitting the seeds and seeing who could spit the farthest. I remember spreading butter on wheat bread, pulling out a spoon full of sugar, and spreading it on top. I remember a cold stream soaking through my jeans and shoes. The feel of barbed wire scraping my back as we sneaked in. I remember the thrill of being where we weren’t allowed, the pounding of my heart as we jumped at every noise. I remember the panic when we thought we got caught, the adrenaline as we ran back to the fence with the no trespassing sign. The soft thuds of our feet on the softer dirt, the scratching of tree branches, and the relief when the fence came into view. The cold water soaking through barely dried cloths, the skidding on dirt as we raced back home. I remember the snow. Light and soft, white as a sheet. I remember running through it, making snowmen and snowdogs. I remember the cold seeping through the thick cloths. I remember the sting when it, the snow, flew up into my face and I remember crying. I remember pain. I remember the words “Just because I’m crying doesn’t mean you should, Kiddo. I don’t want you crying, ya hear?” I remember promising I wouldn’t and I remember breaking that promise even as it left my lips. I remember sobbing till I hurt. I remember not breathing through the lump in my throat. I remember feeling alone. I remember not understanding. I remember having no control. I remember being left. I remember feeling abandoned. I remember waiting, hoping, and more crying. I remember feeling even more alone. I remember not knowing who to turn to. I remember broken promises and being left in the dark. I remember lashing out and the crippling shame. I remember the words “I’m sorry.” And that they are empty. I remember realizing I had to do something. I remember looking at my arms, thinking about what my friends said was a good release. I remember wanting to die, to accept that I was unwanted, unneeded, not worthy. I remember the crushing guilt when I chose to keep going. I remember deciding to shake it all off. I remember deciding if the world didn’t want me, I’d just prove it wrong. I remember deciding to keep that broken promise. I remembering pushing the pain away and turning to the world. Deciding to take what it had to throw at me and spit in its face. I remember deciding to watch out for myself, and take care of those who were important to me. I remember discovering I was important to some. I remember the anger at those who made me think otherwise and at myself for allowing it. I remember moving on.