I will remember, until the day I die, where I was when the world I knew changed. I will remember the bitter taste of fear in my mouth. I will remember the images they played over and over and over. I will remember strangers hugging and holding hands. I will remember doors opened, cots set up and blood donated. I will remember the pictures of ash falling like snow, tear streaked faces of firefighters, brothers in arms. I will not remember with hate. I will not remember with prejudice. I will remember with love, to honour the sacrifices made. Amen.
The rain beat at the window so long it became like a lullaby. I stared out into the wet day without seeing. My mind was on the Moose. I had seen it in my dreams again last night and knew it was trying to tell me something but I could not decipher his cryptic message. The first time I had seen him he had been wearing a gas mask and John Lennon glasses. The next time he had been walking backwards through the deli down on 5th street. This time he just stared at me crying. What did he want?
In the moss covered house on the hill the tired old woman sits by the cold fire place waiting. She made a promise that she would wait here and she intends to keep that promise even until her dying breath. She has been waiting for forty seven years. Little does she know that two towns over he is sitting down to Sunday dinner with his wife of 46 years, three children and 7 grandchildren. He often wonders what would have happened if he had gone back that night and met back up with that nice girl whose parents lived up on the hill.
Princess Pinky pulled the duvet over her head and waited for the racket of handsome Prince’s banging away at the front door to stop so she could go back to sleep. This had been happening a lot since her wicked step-sisters had posted that add on Craigslist. “Unmarried Princess, free to a
good okay suitable home. Capable of cooking, cleaning and lawn maintenance. Total heir baring hips!” Put Pinky had her own plans; she was going to run off to the city, join a roller derby league, drink gin right from the bottle, smoke cigarillos and adopt a rottweiler named Tootie.
When I was a little girl we lived in a house with a half bathroom on the main floor. It had a sink and a toilet, there was nothing special about it but it is the one room of the dozens from various houses that stands out in my memory. It seems like it is the center of so many great memories. My brother teaching me how to do “punk make-up”, the dental floss, tooth extraction catastrophe, and the great Easter egg hunt of ’82. My mom and I called it the Bat-Room which thirty years later still makes me laugh.