Morning Memory Picture Show

I wake in the dark stillness of the early morning with only the sound of the gentle popping lips floating from the other side of the bed and the forced air shushes of the breathing machine flowing through my Darth Vader mask. One flickering wink is all that is needed to make the choice to close my eyelids like one closes window shades to shut out the world. I want to return to my half dream state in which the mind’s eye views the imagined pictures of memories. I float through the memories of my early life and, as much as I want to linger over every memory, turning and viewing the mirages from every angle, bringing out the details like one develops the latent images of a photograph, the memories move away at their own speed vanishing like smoke vanishes into the air and like a gentle rain vanishes into the ground.

Opening the kitchen cabinets, I pull out my musical pot and spoon instrument to play a tribal melody. Scooting down the nursery school slide, dressed in dark shorts, a light shirt and suspenders, laughing and the run to the ladder to do it again and again. Standing at the front door, I cry as my mother drives away while Anna comforts me. Playing in the bathtub, entering with baby-like smooth skin and leaving with the wrinkled covering of an ancient man. Stretching hand over hand on the monkey bars and gliding to and fro as my brother pushes the swing’s seat and runs beneath. Watching my dog chasing round and round without ever catching his tail. Exploring the hedge maze on the corner hoping to create an adventure. Sitting on the porch waiting for my father to cruise into the drive. Coming into the house to the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking. Catching flickering fireflies in glass jars on warm spring evenings. Designing quickly vanishing air paintings with sizzling sparklers.

Then the memory picture show is interrupted by the soft whispering tones of “happy birthday”, and my day and a new year begins with a smile on my face.