When I was a kid and I discovered I had kids across the street from me, it was like hitting the jack pot and suddenly my summers were fun. And sometimes I’d just walk around their yard. It was early yet, and while the humming bird had already come and paid attention to some hibiscus trees within the gates of my yard, it was completely silent at the Taylors. I never thought much of boundaries when I was young. So since we had played before I didn’t think anything of walking through their backyard and up and down the side of the house until someone stirred and would then be ready to play with me.
In the far back was a wooden bench and then on the bench was a press. I don’t know the name, but it had a handle that you’d corkscrew right and two steel sides would come together, and left and it would come apart. I didn’t realize all this then. But when you get older and think about things, you realize when things don’t always fit. Like how there were no men at that house but Grandpa who’d lived with Alzheimers for what seemed like a longer then long time. This bench with a tool for what looked like a fit man, but who? The kids have vague memories of when Grandpa knew more, but much of it is during that strange time in a kids life where memories weave in and out like collages. And their father hitched it before they remembered his face.
I remember being young and starting to forget and I sat in my bathroom while my mother applied her makeup. She’d spend a long time doing that, and I begged her to let me put make up on me. And she always said I was so beautiful I didn’t need it. But I think it must of been an excuse so that I wouldn’t wear her make up.
My mother said something about how awful her mother was to her growing up and that had perked my interest like hot gossip of who was mother before she was mother. I asked for more details but she just said I don’t know and then ignored me.
I asked a few more times but then gave up and turned and looked at the towels. And I became aware of how there are things I was starting to forget. And I thought things would stay together like flipping through a book and reading it all, it seemed like it should be that way. So I felt I had to do something, so with all my energy I focused on keeping those memories forever, making sure they were all important and then I got to keep the seamless timeline.
But it was all in in vain cause all those memories left anyway. Maybe I even lost more then I would have if I had just left it alone. Or maybe it is the exact same amount.