My Precious Memories

My Precious Memories

Shamilev Tariel
Semester 1/FIB

My precious Memories

I put it off until the tidiness guru installed by my Mama becomes anxious and then alarmed. I dread it while I drink my first cup of coffee. Three quarters into my second cup I know to get my shower and just begin. My mind goes through what needs to be done. Then I let my body take over and use my mind for other things.

I write mental letters to folks I left behind in the town where I used to live. Sometimes my mind goes back there and visits. Sometimes it gets ready and travels to my favorite restaurant. After I'm done there, I wander on up the hill to the library. The flowers smell just like they did when I visited last time. The enormous American flag flaps in the spring air like clean bed linen drying on the line.

Someone asks me about dinner. I give them the telephone number to the Penny Saver as cleaning day and cooking mix like oil and water. My daughter tells me in her sweet four-year-old way that the sun is not up anymore. I speed up and rush out the back door with a bag of garbage.

Then I stop. A low moan escapes as I take in the colors. It's almost like an invisible line has been drawn and the colors are stacked one on top of the other - pale blue, then a soft yellow followed by peach and then a glowing orange. There are no sounds. The air invites me to stay - the house beckons me to finish.

It would be rude to have been given this present and not let it soak on in. So I walk away from the garbage and breathe. That's it just breathe. I smell the dirt and the rotting leaves. The pole lamp begins its little flickering dance before it can gather the muster to glow. It is still doing the same dance it did for my folks when I lived in the other town.

I think of my folks when I'm outside. We kept the old garage my daddy's newest Ford was always parked under. The footsteps from the front door to his parked car washed away with each rain. But there were so many - enough to make up a...

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