Do I know you?

“Hey, I know you!”

“Are you speaking to me?”

“Well, I don’t see anyone else around so, I guess I am. It’s Patty, right?”

“Ummm, yes but I’m afraid that I don’t know who you are and if you didn’t notice, Trader Joe’s is jammed today with people everywhere.  Sorry, I really have to get back to work..”

“Oh, come on, wait a minute, what’s the rush?”

“What part of I don’t know you do you fail to understand?”

“Wow!  And after we spent so much quality time together!”

“Excuse me?”

“High school, we used to sit next to each other in Mrs. Klein’s English Lit class.”

“7th Period?    Oh my God, Steve… Steve Altman?”

“That would be me!  Wow, have I changed all that much?”

“Well, let’s be honest here, it’s been 47 years, we aren’t those kids anymore!”

“I had no problem recognizing you, except for the blonde hair and eyeglasses and…you aren’t wearing that sweater that you had on at our reunion.”

“Please, stop there, quit while you’re ahead, Steve.   I’m sorry if I was rude.  Gosh, I forgot about our 25th reunion.”

“Hey, no problem, it happens to me, a lot.  And to think I almost asked you to our senior prom, but…”

“Oh please, that I do not recall.  You only spoke to me in class and outside of that room we passed in the hall when we changed periods where you barely acknowledged me.  You were going to ask me to the prom…but?”

“You were seeing that guy Ronnie, weren’t you, the one who dumped that girl Joanie so he could take you to the prom?  That was quite the scandal in our corner of the lunchroom. Boy, she hated you, probably still does.”

“I’m sure she’s gotten over it by now, Steve unless, of course, she runs into you and it gets thrown up to her once again.”

“I heard you and Ronnie broke up a couple of years after graduation.”

“Yes, we did.  Ancient history, hardly something I ever think about.  Still practicing law, still married, kids?”

“Talk about a fast change of subject.  Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with that question.”

“Ahhh yes, still an Attorney, I see.  Well, I’m not on the stand but I do take the fifth.  And, the answers to my questions on your marriage situation, kids?”

“Yes to both, you?”

“Almost 41 years now, three kids, four Grandkids.”

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic…you?”

“It’s all relative, people go through so many changes over the years, you know?  Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, Patty?”

“Sarcasm?  No, more like honesty.  Growing older sucks, especially when there’s still so much you want to do while time just clicks away, faster and faster.  Speaking of time, I really have to get going, Steve.”

“That’s too bad.  I was hoping we could catch up on more of that ancient history but just have to mention that I’ll always remember that one afternoon in class.”

“And what afternoon was that?”

“That Friday, in November of 1963, you came to class late and interrupted Mrs. Klein while she was teaching, you were all upset and she wouldn’t listen to you.  She yelled at you to take your seat just as the announcement came over the loudspeaker.”

“I remember as if it were yesterday.  Mrs. Klein was furious with me and when I tried to tell her what I heard, she told me not to spread rumors. As I kept trying, she demanded that I get into my seat at once and Sydney started laughing. Remember him? Boy, that was so out of character for her to lose her temper in class, especially with me, I was one of her favorite students.”

“Her anger turned to tears when we all heard what the principal had to say and Sydney was the first one to run out of the classroom. He was the class clown, a jerk who had no idea of that tragedy. All he cared about was getting out of school.”

“Yes, that was a horrible scene and I’ll never forget those words…President Kennedy has been assassinated, school is dismissed.  Most of us just sat there, in shock. Mrs. Klein put her head down on the desk and sat there, crying. Sad, sad memory.  Well, on that note, I have to run.   It was good seeing you again, Steve.”

“Good seeing you too Patty, just remember that you can’t run forever.  Memories have a way of bringing people together again if only in their dreams.”

 

Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #14: Talk It Out

For this week’s prompt, we’d like you to tell us a story using only dialogue. That’s right. There can be no “he said/she said,” no modifiers at all in fact. Just conversation, plain and simple, between quotes. Not that you necessarily have to use quotation marks…just look at Cormac McCarthy, he uses no quotations marks at all.  Tell a tale through conversation and dialogue between your “characters.” This can be fiction or non-fiction…and can even be poetry.

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Storm

 

 

Frail and tiny, she walked, through wind and pounding rain, struggling to get home. Once at the door,  she was never seen again…after Irene.

 

 


 

 

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Remember? Why?

 
 
 

We’d like for you to write about your first memory. Reach way back into your mind, try to find that first, earliest memory, and share it with us through your words.  Don’t just tell us what you remember, show us, make us feel what you felt, take us with you back to that first clear (or hazy) memory of your past.

 

 

 

 

Ouch! 

When this prompt came up last week, I cringed; memories, for me, especially early ones, aren’t terribly pleasant.  Why is it that good memories are sometimes forgotten but bad ones tend to linger way too long?

It’s okay, not playing the martyr here, not at all.  I honestly cannot offer a fitting response this prompt-time around but.. I still wanted to participate, in some way.   

Various posts on my blog have delved into my rough childhood and that’s because, at the point when I wrote them, I felt the need to put it out there, especially after having private discussions with several people.   Child abuse survivors often reach out to let others know they are not alone.  For now, I’ll just leave those memories slink off into some corner where they will hide, and wait, always reminding me that they aren’t far away.

How about someone else’s memories, or lack thereof?  Can I bend the rules…please?

For most of her life, my late mother had an uncanny ability to deliberately erase any memory which made her..uncomfortable.  Dementia crept in and relieved her of that job along with the ability to think – the very brain functions that shaped the person she once was.  Dealing with this as her daughter and caregiver was understandably frustrating.  All I can compare it to is when people speak very loudly to someone who doesn’t speak English, hoping they can make themselves understood.

Being in the company of someone with memory loss, 24/7,  finds you  always asking questions, the same ones, only to be met with a blank stare.  There is so much you need to know, things you neglected to ask at a time when there might have been a more cognizant response.  Sadly, those answers are never what you need to hear but you keep asking.  There is always a chance that some spark of remembering will come out of nowhere.

I waited for that opportunity to grab just one fleeting recollection.  That happened shortly before my mother died but, sadly, I waited too long.  Seconds too long.  I missed that last chance to recover a tiny bit of what Dementia had stolen; a joy, sorrow or some motherly recognition.  Her memory quickly flew away and out of sight even though I prodded for its return by asking mother to try hard to remember.

Her answer to me was…“Remember?…Why?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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