remembering

I remember odd things about the houses that I have lived in. The vibrant aqua tile in the bathroom. That there were two closets in the hallway - on where we kept our dog's puppies for a while.

I remember the oven that baked the lopsided cake because the rack was crooked. I helped my Mom fill it in with extra frosting so she could bring it to work without too much embarrassment. It was also in that oven that I dropped the chicken, roasting within, onto the floor. I ran outside to tell my Mom and she came in and helped me rinse it off, and cook it - otherwise there would have been nothing for dinner.

I remember when the lights went out and my Uncle Bobby played the Boogieman and scared me half to death. I remember the purple plush sofa. And who could forget the spinning kitchen chairs?

I remember all these bits and pieces because they are a part of me. They remind me of where I came from, but most importantly they help me remember you.


on the night stand :: Lady of the Snakes