I Remember

I am drowning in a sea of people, encased in my living room. It feels smaller than usual and it doesn't smell like it used to. The familiar clean scent has been taken over by a concoction of different perfumes and colognes, something I usually associate with birthdays.

But today isn't my birthday.

The monotonous murmur of condolence and tears has been hushed by a man in black. He speaks but I don't hear him, even though the room is completely silent. 

I begin to rub my necklace. My fingers trace the smooth, rounded edges and I try to remember the memories that have been imbued in that stone. But I remember nothing.

I try to remember something. Anything at all. But this necklace she gave me for my 10th birthday has now shifted meaning. I fear all I'll be able to remember now is this room.

Suddenly, I hear the man's voice. "My son has told me he would like to say a few words."

I freeze at the sound of Dad's soft voice. Usually it's a voice that reminds me of root beer floats, but not today. Not right now. I feel a hot chill that runs through my nerves and pools in my fingers.

My eyes dart around the room. I see that everyone's looking at me but all I want to do is to disappear. I want them to look away. My mind races, trying to find a way out of this situation. Eyes darting faster, I realize there is no escape other than to embrace the moment.

I stand up with a sigh shakier than my hands and I take my dad's place in front of the fireplace. I can still feel the heat on the back of my legs even though the fire's light is dying.

I look at my family again but they look different from here. I am no longer drowning, but sailing. I look at my sister's wetted eyes. She doesn't speak as she clamps her lips, fighting to stop them from quivering. Despite this, somehow I can hear what those hazel-green eyes are telling me.

My fingers trace that round, stone necklace and suddenly... 

I remember.

I remember sitting between my mothers legs, racing each other to find the last hidden picture in the I-Spy book. I remember my legs being poked by the old, ripped up pleather chair that seems to have gone stale from the years of use prior. However, that was okay because all I felt was her chin on top of my head, bouncing as she laughed.

I remembered that I always wore the same pajamas for family movie nights. I don't remember the pattern, but I know the soft cotton hugged me and kept me warm as Mulan played in front of us - Mom's least favorite movie. But that's not what mattered to her.

I started to remember everything. The songs we sang on the way to our bowling games. The books she read to us, the vacations she took us on. Each memory came faster and faster, overlapping each other, the next one more vivid than the last.

I took one last breath, a little less shaky now, and spoke.

This story is fiction, yet inspired by true events in my life. I really want to practice my storytelling skills. Using words to paint a picture is really neat to me. I really want to get into oral storytelling, using my breath and voice inflection as important tools to convey emotion. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed.