memries.

I don’t remember a time when I didn’t feel inferior to blondes, or the petite of the world. I remember the big blue tank of a car my parents used to drive us around in. I remember that tank breaking down regularly, and being stranded on the side of the highway deciding which way to walk, long before the introduction of the car phone. I remember watching my mom apply her lipstick, rarely before we left the house. It was usually done in the rear view mirror of whichever tank we drove at the time. I remember thinking it was a mistake when she was wearing red whilst applying pink. I remember our scruffy dog Buffy and how she always used to get in the way and scramble under the feet of whoever was near. I remember the day that she scrambled under the cut-off telephone pole my dad was tooling around on a dolly just as he was letting it down onto the ground. It was going to be the base of the deck he was building around our above ground swimming pool. I remember how excited I was that this deck was finally going to exist, knowing it would make cannonballs and not-so grassy feet so much easier, and also how devastated we all were that the foundation of that summer bliss is what caused Buffy to take her last breaths. I remember sitting around her tired body watching her struggle for air, seeing my dad display deep sadness for possibly the first time in my life. Buffy was his dog. If we’re talking about pet license then she belonged to my mother, but in real life, no one could be convinced of this. I remember the sparkles and hearts on the shirt I wore while I sobbed until my face was a pink as the lipstick my mother would apply to her lips. I remember Buffy’s last breath, and my first tangible reckoning with finality. I remember my brother and my father leaving moments after Buffy’s last to make it to the WWF match they had tickets for, and my first reckoning with the reality that even in sadness and loss, life must go on.