Contest

reminiscence: it’s something quite interesting. 

it might be from

something so small

that it gets tossed to the back of your brain

just like your failed algebra test in the back of your closet, crumpled

or it might be from

something so big

that it lives rent-free in your head, 24/7

just like piano books sitting on the stand, dust gathering every second

but no matter what

once you pass by that place:

your fifth-grade math classroom

 where you failed the big test

your teacher’s piano venue 

where everyone clapped for you after the performance

your old school 

where you had so many friends

  the memories will rush back 

faster than you can think

faster than you blink

and maybe it’s a good thing

because

it’s scary to think that one day

a memory that was once so familiar will become so foreign

you won’t remember

 what your mom’s chicken noodle soup tastes like

what your best friend sounds like when she laughs

what your meticulous secret handshake with your friend is 

what staying up late in a sleepover feels like

so the next time you

drink your mom’s chicken noodle soup

get cramps from laughing too hard with your friends

make the silliest traditions with your friends

stay up until 3 a.m., not able to fall asleep from all the sugar

savor it

remember it

treasure it

because you won’t know the next time you’ll be able to experience it again

In the moment, it felt so cogent, 

Until it passes, I wish I could see into the past with crystal glasses. 

It was so fun, I felt like I’d won, dancing with the lilies in the sun. 

A moment that once was so familiar became foreign. 

Luckily, there are many of these, it is life’s expertise. 

Once again, then and then, another moment that I can seize. 

In conclusion, we are never in seclusion, even if it’s what we think. 

Moments come, moments go, and humans move to and from the things that scare us most. 

As you grew up the memories started to fade faster and faster, slowly dimming into a soft hum in the back of your head. All you yearned for now was the feeling of childhood again and the warm embrace of your parents. You remember dancing in your garden without a care in the world smiling at the thought of all your experiences, but as time passed, these thoughts got rarer. The stress of making friends, choosing what to wear, how you were going to do at school started to plague your memories. Suddenly you couldn’t recall the last time your dad scooped you up in his arms and twirled you around. A moment that was once so familiar became foreign. Each day you smiled less and warm, jubilant memories from the past were rare occurrences. 

One day, you layed in bed, tears streaming down your cheeks as numbness contained your body. You wanted to remember family dinners, running away from waves, but formulas and deadlines soon swirled in your head. Unable to sleep from the feeling of accomplishing nothing and wasting the precious moments in your life, you made a promise to yourself to never let this happen again. The next day, you slept in, went to the beach for the first time in years, letting the golden rays of sun soak into your skin. The salty mist sprayed your face as the birds whistled to the dancing breeze. 

You walked down the old street, with the same worn buildings from your childhood. You entered the candy store, a wave of nostalgia running over you. An aroma of sweet sugar lingered in the air as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You grabbed your favorite gummy sharks and paid at the register with three quarters, a dime, two nickels, and seven shining pennies. Suddenly, you felt the oddest sense of déjà vu running over you. Old memories came flooding back of you skipping down the streets and eating candy to your heart's content. For the first time, the corners of your lips twitched, slowly curving into an unerasable smile. You were ready for this change, a new chapter of your life, a way to restart. You sighed, finally satisfied, letting your inner child take a deep breath again.    

Xavier’s dark chocolate hair seemed to bounce as we walked up the steps to his house. As he unlocked the front door, I sniffed the air. It smelled like barbecue. “Dad, can Vicki stay over for dinner?” Xavier hollered.  “Of course! Mi casa es tu casa.” Mr. Mcginley replied. “Dad!” Xavier groaned at how corny his dad was. I thought Mr.Mcginley was hilarious but then again I thought everything was funny. “Vicki, can you stay over for dinner? Dad’s barbecuing brisket?” “Sorry Xavier, mom’s making stuffed bell peppers!” I said trying to hide the fact that I was about to burst into tears. The word dad was always close to my mind. 

Growing up without a father figure is hard. In second grade, I had to dance with my mom while everyone else danced with the father for the daddy daughter dance. In fourth grade, we had to do research on our fathers for father’s day. Obviously it was summer homework. Mrs. Mickle was beyond confused when I tried to tell her, I couldn’t do the research. 

“Vicki, can we do the science homework first? I’ve given up on trying to tell the hypothesis!” Xavier exclaimed.  Xavier was in the drama club, so sometimes he could be overly dramatic. Still, instead of saying any of that, I just chuckled and helped him with his homework. “Okay my brain is now overly full. Do you want a snack? My dad has cream cheese peach tiny sandwiches set out!” Xavier told me. “That sounds delicious but I have to walk the dog! Sorry!” 

I rushed out of there before Xavier could say anything. I still hadn’t told him I went to therapy. I was told I had severe anxiety, three years ago. Medical problems seemed to run in my family. My mom has Hashimoto's. Nothing’s wrong with my brother, his body seems to be made of literal steel. I have severe anxiety, there’s four levels of anxiety. I have level three, severe anxiety, anxiety. I was also diagnosed at four years old with being partially deaf in my left ear. My dad, well my dad…he died of leukemia six years ago. One day, we’re at a pumpkin patch, on a hayride, and the next we’re at the hospital, my mom holding my dad’s hand while I sobbed. A year later, that hand went cold. I try to shake this thought from my head and take the quickest route home. 

As soon as I open the front door, I get slobbered by my Auss-Tzu, an Australian shepherd and shih tzu mix. “Hello to you too, Pineapple.” I tell Pineapple. “Willa?” my brother, Mitchell asks excitedly. His face droops when he sees it’s just me. “Oh, it’s just you.” He says and turns on his heel. “What a warm welcome.” I say sarcastically and head to my room. I throw my backpack on my chair and go back to the living room. “Dinner’s ready!” my mom proclaimed. “Mom, Willa’s not here!” Mitchell stated. “Maybe she canceled at the last minute?” I guess with a shrug. “ Willa never cancels at the last minute.” Mitchell says. He's very fond of his girlfriend, Willa. His phone has a loud ping. “Oh, looks like she canceled at the last minute. Who could have known?” Mitchell says as he looks at her text. I want to say I could have known but keep my mouth zipped. “Dumplings!” My mom says warmly. “I thought you were making stuffed bell peppers?” I ask. I am confused. “That didn’t work out. GrubHub comes really quick though.” My mom says sheepishly. “Dumplings are great!” I say and pick up my chopsticks. I’m actually really annoyed that mom's not making stuffed bell peppers. It’s my favorite meal. Dad was an amazing cook. He owned a restaurant, actually. Levi’s. Levi was my dad’s name. It shut down five years ago. They tried to keep it open for a year after my dad died. Dad was head cook. They had to get a new head cook. They were short on money, so they got a woman, who would work for minimum wage. Her cooking was beyond terrible. They had to shut down the restaurant because of how many people were getting food poisoning. My family was there that day, the restaurant shut down. And with it, my father’s memory.

After dinner that night, Mitchell invited me to the patio. “Is everything okay?” I asked. He’s only invited me one other time. The day dad died. “Just thinking about dad.” He says and his eyes seem watery. Mitchell bursts into tears. I bring him for a hug, just like he did the day on the patio before. “I should have been there when his hand went cold. Not buying you and I snacks at the vending machine.” My fingers comb through his hair. “I thought it was just a game. Dad is sick. I thought he could stop being sick whenever he wanted.” I say softly. I continue “The day, he breathed his last breath. He whispered something to me. It was meant for you but you had left.” Dad knew he was dying I think to myself. “He sees himself in you every day.” Mitchell brings his head up. “Really?” He asks, eyes full of wonder. “Really. He’s not wrong, either. You remind me of him, too.” I say with a sad smile. I bring my head down into Mitchell’s lap. We notice a shooting star, go by. “Make a wish.” Mitchell tells me. “What can I wish for? I have everything!” I say and watch the star sail by.