An old memory of mine recently resurfaced...a birthday party at an indoor waterpark. I think it might even have been the first birthday party I ever attended. I think I might have lost a tooth taking a bite of pizza. Or maybe that wasn't me. I'm not sure. I don't remember any specific images or sounds. Mostly I remember the warmth of the pool-air, the weight of a towel draped around my shoulders, and the smell of chloramines.
I don't know why this memory decided to make an appearance, yet there it was, pretending never to have left. It slipped back into my brain as quietly as a child listening at the top of the stairs. But at the same time the memory's manner of return had an insolent quality. It was trying not to be noticed, but it still couldn't resist poking me, expecting a reaction. What it did not expect was that, in its absence I have become a different person. When this memory was made, maybe it was important to me. I don't know. But since then I have evolved; I don't see those people anymore, and birthday parties are no longer the highlight of my week. The memory returned wanting to be welcomed back with open arms, but instead it was greeted with disinterested curiosity.
Memories expect people to stay the same, and sometimes they get offended when that turns out to be untrue.
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Counting Down the Days
PoetryIt is the summer before I leave for college, and I am staring into the empty abyss before me, wondering what to do with my life. In this collection, I am challenging myself to write something every day (now adjusted to every 2-3 days). I may write p...
