Memories (Maybe_Miseryx's challenge)

by SupRspi
originally published at 05:52PM on Monday, December 03, 2007

I don’t really remember him. I wish I did, but I don’t.

I have memories that I think are real, but they’re limited to what’s printed on the photo paper. Me strumming his guitar; me running around in milk bags over my diaper while he watches bemusedly, me clomping around in his cork boots.

I don’t remember anything beyond the edges of the paper. I can’t say why I was doing those thing, unless they’re things I was told about.

I do remember going to the neighbors to get juice, and getting yelled at. He was alive then, but I don’t remember him.

It seems unfair to remember the neighbor, the juice, and the yelling – yet not him.

I do remember being in my mom’s room helping her put coats on the bed, because lots of people were over and had brought baking.

I remember that she tried to explain something to me, but not what it was. I remember tears on her face, but I don’t remember knowing why.

I know now. It can’t be easy to explain to a 6 year old that his daddy is never coming home.