I remember...

I remember laying outside watching the meteor shower every Fall. The blackness surrounding our huddled, little bodies as we lay on the damp trampoline. The night sky lit up like it was the 4th of July.

I remember the prickers that stuck to the bottom of our feet as we ran across the field barefooted in a race to be the first to the fort. I remember opening the prized box of Jell-o that tasted like the sweetest piece of candy a six year old could ever want. I remember the tanginess as it poured into our mouths. I remember being surprised when our mother found out what we had done. How did she know?

I remember standing in the checkout line and staring at the gum. I remember thinking no one would know. I remember getting caught with a packet of Chiclets down my shirt on October 31, 1975 in Novato, California. I remember hanging my head as I walked back into the store with my father to apologize to the storeowner. I remember wondering if I'd get to go trick-or-treating that night.

I remember seeing my first Playboy magazine. I was only 5 years old. We found it in the bushes on our way home from school. The pages were warped and dripping from the rain.

I remember the night my father got so upset about the fighting over what television show we were going to watch that he got up, took out his trusty pocketknife from his back pocket and cut the cord in half.

I remember my dad trimming his toenails with that same knife. He also used it to take out splinters that had lodged deep into our tiny hands, and gutted the rainbow trout we caught from Birch Creek.

I remember the relief I felt when I pulled into my parents driveway after 15 hours of travel. I remember the emptiness that enveloped me when I realized my father was no longer there.