Reminisce

Location

I remember the traditions

like Thanksgiving on Friday

because nana wouldn’t get off

work to do a full day of cooking

and We always open the knitted stockings

first on Christmas

because they’re a preview of what’s to come

 

I remember my mother’s creamy skin

and her burnt sienna curly hair, identical

but not as thick as mine

I remember my dad’s gentle but firm embrace

My little brother’s constant questioning

 

I walk through the narrow eggshell

hallway into my mother’s library of a living room saunter

over to one faux wooden bookshelf

I gaze at the altar of memories

Old photographs of my papa’s mother and father

Young before cancer took their lives away

My nana and her parents stand straight

as a board for the camera

as if they were the American Gothic portrait

of the old farmer and wife

 

I don’t know much about nana’s family

Grew up in Kentucky

A Baptist preacher’s kid

 

Stories papa tells

the autobiography he says

he’s going to write

“We passed by the all-white school to our one room

schoolhouse every day.  There’s still some bricks

left where it used to be. 

I’m gonna take you there one summer.”

 

I remember Garrison and Amaya’s births

Their lukewarm bodies

that could fit in my cupped hands

Amaya’s cold fingers wrapped

around the top of my index finger

The squeeze she gave

me before I never saw her again

The spirit tree their ashes

are spread around

The splintering sunset

orange bark

Unlike any other tree in Central Park

 

I remember Grandma’s “mmhm”s

and “uhuh”s

her southern Georgia twang 

Capped gold tooth revealed when she laughs

Grandpa’s “Come ‘ere baby girl”s

and “Come sit on pawpaw’s lap”s

 

I walk outside and breathe the Old Louisville air

The air I was raised in

The air I remember

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