What of Childhood

I remember running to sprawl out on the kitchen floor so I could trick my mom into thinking I’d died while she was out grocery shopping.

I remember sitting in my Dad’s truck and counting shooting stars until he admitted that the slow moving ones were satellites.

I remember That One Guy driving me home and asking me to flash him, just once, real quick.

I remember putting olives on each of my fingers and running around Thanksgiving screaming “I’m a tiger and I can eat my claws!”

I remember standing in front of the mirror and practicing “Hi, it’s been a while. I can leave if you want.”

I remember sobbing into the air mattress after no owl came on my 11th birthday.

I remember waking up and realizing I’d eaten all of the cute sophomore boy’s Raisin Bran during the party.

I remember knocking over a box of chinese take-out and liking the crumpled-up shapes of the noodles on the floor.

I remember lying to my roommate that I had no idea where her Kellogg Protein Bars went.

I remember Annika coming upstairs in my room and telling me Mom was doing something scary.

I remember Mom lying on the floor.

I remember the crumpled-up shape Mom’s body made.

I remember Mom screaming.

I remember holding a crying sister in each arm while we hid from the phone call in the garage.

I remember chanting “He might be okay, it might not be that. He might just be really hurt, it might not be that” while they clawed at me, dug their faces in my eyes.

I remember when she came for us.

I remember holding her up.

I remember holding them up.

I remember breaking Ms. Kim’s tan crayon and telling everyone I wasn’t the last person to use it.

I remember how Dad tried not to laugh while I buried my goldfish.

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