Feeling Like I Could Breathe Again

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I remember standing on a lawn and watching bats fly out of our attic. I was 3.

I remember the little red rims the cinnamon Santa eyes would leave behind when we ate them off of all Gram’s cookies. When Hershey bars came in a real foil sleeve, and the pleasure of breaking off a perfect rectangle. Blackberry stained hands and the scent of mom’s piecrust. Sprinkling cinnamon and sugar on the remnants, and baking them into delicious bites.

I remember the beautiful blurred world from the top of a horse at full speed. AquaNet fog fugue on cheer trips. The feel of the vinyl seats in my puke-green Gran Torino. The scent of Drakkar becoming the scent of heartbreak.

I remember waiting for him to come home, knowing it was the beginning of the end. The day the smell of smoke started bothering me again. The realization that maybe, after 2 months without him, my lungs – and heart – might finally be clean. I remember selling his (personalized) Bible at a garage sale for $1. With relish.

I remember the first time you touched my arm.

 

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Prompted by NaPoWriMo, day 29.