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