I Remember...

I felt a breeze of crisp, cold air dart through my window screen and dance around my room. It struck my toes as if it were trying to trigger a reaction. I quickly grasped my cold comforter and retreated underneath it into my warm sanctuary. Whispers of the television became the background music for the morning and soon after, the sizzling of bacon and eggs accompanied the Sports Center analysts in an orchestra. The cold kept infiltrating my room with full force. There was no other choice than to risk my warmth for the safety of the rest of my bedroom ecosystem, the ecosystem which included my beloved chunky cat purring beside me completely unaware of the issue at hand. I slipped out of my bed and rushed to the window where I quickly cranked the frigid metal handle. It took maybe at total of three seconds to close it, but each turn of the handle felt like time slowed down even more in my head. In my rush to protect myself from the morning fall air, I almost missed the astonishing sight of the warm tone painted trees. Dressed in red, orange, and yellow, the leaves swirled and twisted at the will of the wind and created a picture of autumn that was Nebraska's best kept secret. I waltzed out my door whilst stretching and yawning catching only glimpses of my family as my focus was on making it to the kitchen. The kitchen was lit so brightly, and smelled delightful. I couldn't help but smile. Unfortunately, the food was not done so I waited on the couch next to my mother. She smelled of coffee and perfume. Her white robe, tattered and worn, adorned her body. I nestled up next to her, and tried to comprehend the TV broadcasters. My father sat across from us with his thick glasses upon his nose. He was reading the Sunday morning newspaper with his eyes darting back and forth across the pages. A cup of coffee sat on the table beside him and the steam weaved through the air and waved at me across the way. Don't let it fool you, the mysterious drink was not as friendly as it seemed. It was hot and bitter, but mom and dad sure seemed to enjoy their morning tradition. The timer on the oven sounded and the daydreaming was interrupted without warning. Almost all at once the calm choir of the morning became a cluster of noises without rhythm. My sister burst out of he room stomping about the house, and my brother yelled in joy after the football team scored a touchdown. Mom served up five plates of warm biscuits, gravy, eggs, and bacon! She always made her plate last to make sure we were all fed. Dad sat at the head of the table chatting with my brother beside him about the big game the night before. My sister's hair was tangled and big. She wore the morning look confidently as my mother and I teased her about it. We all sat down to eat and enjoy each other's company before heading separate ways and playing sports, running errands, and preparing for the week ahead of us.

That was years ago. I no longer wake up to the cold because I remember to shut my windows before bed. My cat is skinny and frail, but still curls up to me. My sister is never home, and I only sometimes see her passing through. My brother lives somewhere else, but he makes sure to visit every once in awhile. I miss morning cartoons with him. My father is older, but he still reads the paper. He still drinks coffee, and I sometimes join him. You get used to the taste. It has been a few months since my mom and I shared a morning together. I like to think she still smells like perfume from the night before. I like to think she still rocks the white robe, but I know she doesn't. I know that because the the robe sits on a hook in my bathroom left untouched for awhile now. The fall mornings are much different now. My dad and I sit at the bar and finish breakfast. We do a bit of cleaning and then I start on my homework. My moms send me a quick text to ask when she can see me next. I am busy for the next two weeks so we try to fit in lunch.

I remember these things all too well. Remembering is a gift that not everybody gets to experience. I am so lucky to know the things that used to make me feel so safe and loved, but there's a catch. The thing about remembering, though, is that you can only remember. You can never live it again as the time has now passed.

I can close my eyes and go back to that place, but when I open them I am back to reality.

The things I have now aren't bad though. They are just different. I don't think about it all the time or cry about what has changed anymore. Every now and then, though, I forget to close my windows and the breeze catches me as if it's trying to comfort me. It reminds me how lucky I am to remember.