| t h e • m e m o r y | Don't let the bastards get you down
My grandparents' house was filled with old paintings of long-departed family members, powdery white walls, and the smell of Maggy noodles. Glass doorknobs, antique books, and wood furniture that made cracking noises in the dark.
If I close my eyes, firmly shut, and then open them again, I am able to grasp fugitive moments of past memories that are burned into my mind, knotted around my ribs. Figments of a disjointed mind, sweeping through a mist of ghosts I’ve voluntarily awoken.
You were both in the kitchen for a very brief moment, in a vast universe where there is no pain nor sadness. Cigarette smoke fills up the room, clinging to my skin, just like old times. Habits you never broke.You still wear your beautiful blonde hair in a silky bun and he still wears with pride his veteran pins. Two old souls still smiling at me.
Since you've been gone, I've put on my big girl pants and I let life take me away to who knows where. I get stuck in my head for much too long trying to convince myself I am a whole lot tougher than I really am. I grind and clench my teeth far too often for I have once read we are architects of our own destruction. In all honesty, I admit there are times when I would like to slide beneath the cracks of our worlds and stay with both of you there for a one still moment, protected by your love, like I did, many moons ago.
That's home to me.
I am an adult now and I can still hear you say:
"Don't let the bastards get you down."
I won't :)