I Remember

Dear memory,

Do you remember?

I remember the room we used to sleep in at Nana’s house

Where morning light filtered through paper shades

Across cotton pillows.

I remember Momma calling it Nana and Papa’s house

But I don’t remember Papa

So to me it’s just Nana’s.

I remember the marble-slab mattress

I remember the glass lamb figurine atop a chest of drawers

That didn’t hold clothes

But pictures instead

Pictures of Nana and Papa and Momma

When there were no wrinkles or frowns

Or tears.

I remember a silvery centipede braving the popcorn ceiling

I remember the soft tendrils of the red shag carpet through my toes

As I ran away down the hallway.

I remember the same crimson carpet catching my falls

Amid gymnastic and dance routines.

Do you remember?

I remember the golden cross above the bed and Jesus hanging there

I remember asking Nana

Why that man was stuck up on the wall

I’m still not sure I understand why.

I remember whispering “Goodnight Nana” down the hallway

Even though I knew she could not hear me

As age and sleep descended upon her.

I remember Papa’s old exercise bike in the corner

I remember riding it like I was in a great big race

I remember the flattened marks in the carpet where it had stood all those years

When we packed up Nana’s house.

I remember feeling cold on the marble slab

The night we slept there for the last time

And thinking

How Nana must have been cold on hers too.

I remember wrapping the glass lamb in bubble wrap and putting it in a box

Tucking it in tight

And whispering

Goodnight Nana.

Do you remember?

Love,

Siena