Fiction · Life

I remembered where I was

I always remember where I was when someone told me something bad had happened. In New York, people often said “You always remembered where you were on 9/11”. I do remember that, and I also remembered so many other things that were much personal. I remembered where my first heart break was. It was on a bench in the school yard. I remembered my second heartbreak and my third too. But I can’t remember where I had my first kiss.

I remembered where I was when mum told me great grandma passed away. I was lying on my twin air mattress in the tiny rental room. I was just lying there crying because I was too poor to get a ticket to go see her. Since then I kept a box on my desk, collecting every pennies and singles I had. I got in there exactly $1000 so I always had a ticket home.

I remembered where I was when my brother called me, telling me granddad passed away. I was in a brewery laughing with a friend a second before. I snapped at my brother telling him to not joke with me, that I just saw grandpa 2 days ago, that as soon as I got home the first thing I did was going to see him. I remembered my brother’s voice quiet on the other side “why would I joke about this?” and I flew out of the brewery.

The pains of all those news I still carry with me everyday. It’s like having a sharp pin in my purse. Though I carry it with me, I mostly forget about it. Until I try to reach in to grab something and it pokes me. Sometimes so hard that I bleed. But I carry them around still, and I remembered exactly where I picked up each of those pins.

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