Rambunctious, innocent, naive, carefree, my childhood…our childhood. I still remember you, us, our friendship, everything…even if you had forgotten a long time ago. I still remember. I still care.
Once, about ten years ago I had a sister. ‘Had’ as if I do not have one now, I do, she just doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t remember the demure scenery of our grandparents’ garden, the way the birds loudly chirped in the morning, the vociferous rooster that woke us up at the crack of dawn, the sweet and oh so familiar chocolate scent that flooded the house every evening from grandma’s cooking, the pine cones we used to collect and then paint in grandpa’s shed. How? How does one forget years in one second? Why? Why her? Why me? Why us? All these questions left unanswered. What happened that night, at midnight, remains engraved in my memory forever. Something that made my once jubilant life turn into a hellish nightmare I want to escape. The phone rang loudly through the house, as I cracked an eye open and with a grunt got out of bed. I picked it up. My heart froze; I could hear our mother’s faint sobs through the phone. I could barely hear what she was telling me, only hearing bits of the news. ‘Your sister…car…accident…hospital’ these were the only thing I heard before I slammed the phone down and rushed to the hospital. To my relief, she was alive. Although she had lost something that night, something irreplaceable, you may have guessed already…she lost her memory.
If you think me sad or angry or resentful, you are wrong. Yes, I had lost my half but I hadn’t lost one thing. I hadn’t lost my own memory where our childhood lies and I know I will never regret something that once made me smile.