I Remember

I remember holding my father’s hand as he led me into the holding pens at the rodeo. The horses were giants and I was afraid. He held me close and I remember him smiling. It was night and the lights over the stands were busy with hovering moths. I remember the smell of hay and the sour aroma of livestock.

I remember watching my grandmother putting on her makeup.  She sat in front of a small dressing table. Two tall mirrors were hinged on a larger one in the middle and as I watched her move the small blue brush over her eyes, I wondered how she kept from blinking. She hummed a quiet tune.

I remember wanting to be a cat. My cat slept in the place between the sun and the shade. I remember watching the shadows of the leaves move across her whiskers. I remember looking closely at her face. The tiny hairs on her nose swirled like the lines in the water behind a boat. She ignored me as I traced the lines under my fingertip.

I remember my mother’s pale yellow car that sat in our driveway. The sun would reflect off of the back windshield. The chrome on the bumpers was smooth under my hands. Tiny rainbows of color would splash on my skin. The seats were white. I remember the lines that were sewn into the seats. They would leave imprints in my skin.

I remember oranges. An orange so large I had to use both hands to hold it. My mother pierced it with her colorful fingernail and pulled a plug of the thick skin from the top of it. I could smell the sweet smell. With the light of the window behind her, I could see the spray of the oils being squeezed into the air. I remember pulling at the skin and piling the pieces like a stack of bowls. They were sweet… they were juicy. My hands kept the aroma.

I remember playing in the water… I remember the sweet aroma that came to me from the wind in the spring. I remember the clean lines in the yard from the lawnmower. I remember giant candy jaw breakers. I remember the feeling of my wet shoelaces that were stained from the rain. I remember music from the light green record player filling our home. I remember smiles and laughter. I remember comfort…

                                                                           Shannon R Killman