I remember kicking rocks on the streets of Ecuador as a form of entertainment when I had to walk to the plaza to buy milk. My grandma didn't drive a car.
I remember the smell of diesel in the air, lungs retracted, breath exhaled. Nausea.
I remember waiting for the 'A' train to get to Manhattan with my mom.
I remember the smell of urine and watching a family of rats cross from track to track.
I remember the feeling of gratitude and selfishness when I got my first bicycle. I didn't understand it.
I remember the sharp pain across my face when my mother smacked me across the face.
I remember the feeling of hate and love I felt at that moment for her. I didn't understand it.
I remember getting lost with my cousins trying to explore the forbidden in any setting we were placed in. It included childish games that were gritty enough to be deemed hazing, as well as an extreme sense of fear of the unknown.
I remember the closeness and unity we felt to know we were not alone.
I remember thinking I was better than someone, because someone else told me so.
I remember when I didn’t like being different, because I didn’t realize I was different. If I knew why, then perhaps junior high school would have gone smoother.
I remember lying to my mother, then to my friends, and then to myself. I still do.
I remember my grandfather. He wasn’t much of a memory a couple of months ago, when he was still with me.
I remember living in south ozone park. I remember when it was safe.
I remember staying up with my grandpa on Sundays to watch the X-files.
I remember being genuinely happy. When I didn’t have to put a show for others, and could express my feelings without being reduced to a drama queen.
I remember being taken seriously… at some point.
I don’t remember when things changed.
I don’t remember when Freedom was replaced by Pseudo-Freedom. I thought growing up meant I could be myself, not a contest for who has the best façade.
I don’t remember when the Simpson’s stopped being funny…..well maybe I do. I think it was a couple years ago.
3 comments:
Very inetresting, Maria. It's funny to me how this exercise, which is so simple, can produce such different results from different people. What strikes me here, first, is the interesting doubled quality of memories from the country of your childhood mixed with memories of New York. There is also a very rich interplay of emotions here: gratitude, hate, love, fear, arrogance. I think that once you start remembering a story, you should continue in the same paragraph -- for example, the "feeling of love and hate" part should be in the same paragraph as the smack. It's a strong moment. I also think you could enhance some of these lines by being more specific. Instead of just mentioning the childish games, why not describe them? Instead of thinking I was better than someone, why not tell us who? I thought your last line was pretty funny, too.
I can totally relate to taking the train with my mom and getting hit by her. I thought this was really good. It has a very sweet and innocent feel as well as a private part of you. It feels like I know you better now.
These memories sound very genuine and sincere. I liked how u included some senses for the reader to get a better effect from your memories. I also liked how u created "I dont remember" memories. I agree with the fact that you played alot with the emotions in your memories.
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