May 12, 2011

I remember

I remember lying on the dock in the middle of the night with some of my very best friends in the world, staring up at the stars, feeling infinite.

I remember the magic of phosphorescence glittering in the air and in the water.

I remember being up all night, begging Noah to stay with me.
I remember when I knew for sure that he had gone.

I remember the smell of the schoolyard in the fall.

I remember feeling different from every other person I ever met, and never being quite sure why. (But I know why, now.)

I remember so many things I wish I could forget...

I remember being lost in the grocery store when I was four years old, and that my mum didn't even notice I was missing. I remember how utterly unruffled she was, both before and after my return, and my despair at this confirmation that it didn't much matter to her where I was or what happened to me at any given time.

I remember playing Barbies with Danni. I remember her dollhouse was so much nicer than mine, because her grandma was so much richer than mine.

I remember dancing. I remember when I realized I was good at it. Even better, maybe, than my best friend, who (I had thought) was always better at everything.

I remember morning sickness, and I remember when it stopped.

I remember blood.

I remember my first vision of Lissie, breathtaking in its vividness and clarity: a tiny spark of pure Life inside my belly, content, whole, peaceful, filled with laughter and light. (Even though her body was barely formed, she was already so clearly herself.) I remember my awe of her; of her perfection, her completeness, her uniqueness, so separate from me and my anxiety and my fear and my scars.

I remember the day I forgave myself for being my parents' daughter, and understanding for the first time how meaningless that connection was for my future and my personhood. And in turn, how my daughter was her own self as well, and her father's issues and my issues had nothing to do with who she was as a person either -- and that we both would be okay.

I remember riding my bike home in summer twilights, the sound of tires crunching on gravel and the wind rustling through the fields, the smell of corn and raspberries heavy on the air.

I remember the fair.

I remember the ER.

I remember tears, and laughter too, and promising to be friends forever; and I also remember when I first realized that forever was not as long as we always imagined it would be.

Inspired by Alana.


  1. Ughhh that fair. Yes I remember it too. But my memories are not nearly so pleasant. That darn Linden fair changed me and my life forever.

  2. I went to the fair every year for most of my life. I rarely actually enjoyed it. The worst was the year I was dragged behind the restrooms and assaulted by three hispanic guys. Now the sight of a carnival gives me a panic attack.

  3. Memories always seem to produce other memories. Some which we care to remember and others which are painful. Thank you for posting this, Vera Kate. This was beautiful to read.

  4. <3 Thank you for sharing, lovely. Really. <3