32 years.
So many people.
But there is no memory like you.
You’re different.
Sure.
Yes.
Of course.
They all meant something.
But you,
You had meaning.
So.
So there is this collection of you;
And I have it.
I built it.
Moments of you,
Of clear visions,
Of sounds.
Not altered by time;
Not by 15 years.
Just You.
You at your best.
Did you know that I would remember you this way?
A child, enjoying you.
Could you feel that as you were happening
I was recording?
Did you know that I was recording your details?
Did I notice?
That I only noticed the best parts of you?
Did I realize then,
What I would remember now?
No.
I don’t think so.
I was there and there you were
Did you know that I would remember you this way?
It’s really nothing fancy,
Just a smart child,
Noticing the details
The details of you.
Your sauce;
Your numbers;
Bingo, on Easter.
City Chicken;
That necklace;
That Italian horn necklace.
Nothing fancy.
But I was smart;
A smart child, noticing the important.
15 years.
And here it is.
You, on paper.
Did you know that I would remember you this way?
A 32 year old woman,
With the collection of what that smart child recorded.
The best parts of you.
The details.
The details I favored and know well.
Now you know that I remember you this way.
Now you know what I noticed.
Nothing fancy,
Just a smart child,
That noticed your details.
Author: Michelle Hout
Email: [email protected]
Author Bio: I am a 32 year old mother of twins and obsessively grateful for all that I have been blessed with. This piece depicts that part of a person that sticks with you. Although much time may have passed since you lost them, the memory is so clear. Norma was my grandmother; a person so important, a person I loved so much that I knew the bits and details.
