First memories
Carmen Sterba
Kamakura, Japan
In a rush, I dash out of my mama's apartment to play with the snapdragons and
converse with the trees. I roll down the lawn in front of my grandparent's house
all the way to the end where it makes a drop to the beach. While I pound
nasturtium petals into a piquant perfume, the waves are lapping against the
shore and I feel calm again. My sister, Rosemary calls to me and we take the
family rowboat out on the lake. She is 9 this summer, and rows as always since I
am just going on 5. I ask her to slow down by the waterlilies so I can touch
them.
In the afternoon when we return to the apartment, I ask her where our father is.
She replies that the last time she saw him was in a hospital so he must have
died. Since mama is out, we look into her chest of drawers. Rosemary recognizes
our father in a photo of a very tall blonde man with a younger version of mama.
I just stare quietly until we put it back.
the youngest child
stays out until sunset
homemade swing
Next
Read "unruly" by chibi
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