Rewritten,Reimagined
A Portfolio of Revision and Reflection
JenesisBrun ARHU271FinalPortfolio
ReflectionPaper
Comingintothiscourse,Iidentifiedpredominatelyasanon-fictionwriter.As
Editor-In-Chiefofmyhighschool’snewspaper,I’vespentthepastthreeyearsdeveloping strengthsinreporting,editing,andensuringmypiecesareinformativeandimpactful.I’vealso beenstickingstrictlytoAPstylewritinganddrillingalltherulesandregulationsintomyhead.I wasconfidentinmyabilitytocreateclarityanddepthinnon-fiction,andItakeprideinthe precisionofmyprose.Howeverfictionandpoetrywerekindofalwaysonthebackburner becauseIfeltlessconfidentinmyabilitytoproducegoodwritinginthosegenres.Ienteredthis classhopingtoexpandmycreativeabilities,especiallyinfindinghiddenmeaningandcrafting storylinesthatarebothstructurallysoundandemotionallyengaging.Iwantedtochallenge myselfandallowmydiscomforttoleadtogrowth.IcanconfidentlysaythatIaccomplishedthis goaloverthelastthreeweeks.
Theprocessofrevisionwascentraltomygrowthduringthisprocess.Inmyfictionpiece, “GameTime”,amainareaIhadtoconfrontwasdialogue.Myinitialdraftincluded conversationsthatfeltoverlypolishedorflat,theyfeltunrealisticbecausetheylackednatural rhythmsofrealspeech.IslightlyrecognizedthisissuebutthoughtI’ddoneenoughtorectifyit. ItwasonceagainbroughttomyattentionduringworkshopandIfeltabitstuckbecauseIdidn't knowwhatelsetodo.Ibegantotrulylistenmoreattentivelytohowpeoplespeakineveryday life,specificallykids,andIpaidcloserattentiontopacing,subtext,andtone.Ichosetorevisethe pieceaspartofthefinalportfoliobecauseIreallywantedtoreflectandbeabletoshowthe growthIhadindialogue.Oneparticularmomentthatstoodoutwaswherecharactersargued duringabasketballtryout.Originallythescenefeltstilted,andalmostcomicalwithhow“80s
moviebully”theboyfelt.Ileanedintointerruptions,incompletesentences,andbackground noisetocreateafull,realisticmoment.Thatsmallshiftcreatedamorebelievable,textured interactionanddeepenedtheemotionalweightofthescene.Althoughthepieceisn'tasdeepas someofmyothers,it’slightheartedandcateredtowardsmoreofapre-teenaudienceandIfeelif someoneintheagegroupweretoreadittheycouldconnecttothecharacters.
Anotherkeyrevisionareainmyfictionwasimageryandsound.Inahomeworkreading assignment,weexploredanarticlethatencouragedusto“show”ratherthan“tell”,especiallyin scenesofemotionalintensity.Ilearnedtousesensorydetails,whatcharacterssaw,touched,or smelled,tobuildatmosphereandmood.Ibegantothinkmorecinematically,treatingeach momentasachancetopullreadersintothestoryandhavethemthinkingratherthanwritingitall out.Inonerevision,Iaddedthesoundsandmoodofthebeachatnightanddetailedthetension betweentwocharacters.Theseadditionsreallyhelpedbringthestorytolife.
WhileIhadspentsometimewritingmyownprose,poetrywasagenreIhadzero experiencewithbeforethiscourse.Atfirst,Iapproacheditfromaverystructured,literalplace, unsurehowtobalanceformandfreedom.Ijustknewabout4lines,stanzas,andrhymes. Workshopfeedbackandpeermodelsgavemepermissiontobemoreexperimentaland emotionallyopen.Also,seeingallthedifferentpoemsfrompublishedspeakersreallyhelpedme realizeallofwhatIcoulddowithpoetryandhowmanydifferenttypesthereare.Irevisedone repetition-basedpoemaboutchildhoodmemoriesbyfocusingmoreonsoundandimage,adding concretedetailslike“smellofdryerasemarkers”,orthefeelingof“chalkdustonmypalms.” Theserevisionshelpedmovethepoemfromageneralreminiscencetosomethingmorevisceral
andgrounded.Ialsocontinuedtoexperimentwithlinebreaks,spacing,andpacingtoenhance rhythmanddrawthereader'seyetoareasIfeltweremostimportant.
OneofthemostusefulthingsI’vetakenawayfromthisclassistheimportanceof communityinwriting.Receivingfeedbackfrompeoplewithdifferentperspectivesandskill levelsreallychallengedmetorethinkwhatIassumedwasclearoreffective.Therewereplenty oftimeswhenmypeerscalledoutmistakesIdidn’tnotice,orareasIfoundwereperfectand theythoughtdifferently.Theirconstructivefeedbacktrulymademethinkandhelpedmeto revisemypiecesthroughanotherlens,whichIbelieveiswaymorehelpfulthanjustlookingatit onmyown.Ilearnedthatrevisionisn’tjustaboutfixingmistakes,it’saboutdiscovery Sometimesthesecondorthirddraftcanrevealwhatthepiecewastryingtosayallalongand you,asthewriter,didn’tevenknow.(Asmallnodtoourdiscussionaboutauthor’sintentions. Anotherexampleofaconceptthatshiftedmythoughtinthisclass).
AsImoveforwardinmywritingcareer,Idefinitelywanttocontinuetoexplorefiction andwouldliketostartworkingtowardswritingandeventuallypublishingmyownchildren’s books.IwanttobringthesameintentionalitythatI’vebroughttonon-fiction.AconcretegoalI haveistowriteastorythatweavestogetheralltheelementsoffictionwetalkedaboutinthis class(theme,characterization,setting,imagery,sound,etc),withoutlosingmomentumhalfway through.Ialsothinkit’dbebeneficialtocontinuewritingpoetryinmyfreetime,andproduce poemsthatareconcisebutlayered,whereeachwordcarriesweight.
Ultimately,thiscoursehashelpedmeseemyselfasmorethanjustanon-fictionwriter,I cansaythatI’mgoodatthreedifferenttypesofwritingnow!I’vereallycometoappreciatethe waysthatcreativewritingasksyoutotakerisks,toliveinambiguity,andtorevisewithaneye forbeautyasmuchasclarity ThoughIstillhaveplentyroomtogrow,I’mleavingthisclasswith arenewedexcitementforstorytellinginallitsforms,andwithadeeperunderstandingofwhatit meanstorevise,notjustwithprecisionbutwithpurpose.
TheStarsAbove
JunewalkedpastIsaacattheboardwalkfestival.
He didn’t look at her. She didn’t look at him. But she felt him, like static in the air, that electric hum before lightning shocks the earth. Her eyes fixated on the sunset photo set as her phone background. It used to be a picture ofthem:wrappedinawoolblanket,cheekspinkfrom cold,theirmatchinggrinsblurryfromlaughter
Before that-
"I can't do long distance," Isaachadsaid,hisvoicenothingbutawhisper Itwasn’tcold, justquiet,barelyabovethewind.
June nodded because that’s what she thought strong people did. Say nothing. Say everything with silence. But her heart wasbeginningtobelouderthanhermind, Please don't let go.
She knew he wanted her to fight for them, to tell him they could make it worse above state lines and packed schedules. But she had already packed her boxes and wrapped her emotionsinpapertowellogic,stuffingthembetweenbooksandbedsheets.
He wanted more. But what more could she give without undoing everything she had workedfor?
Before that-
They sat at the hidden cove. A slice of shore tucked behinddriftwoodandwildgrasses, where the waves whispered like secrets. The spot wastheirsanctuary Evenonthosecoldnights
Brun8 when they were “just friends” wrapped in scarves and clinking thermos, they came. Just to sit.
Justtobe.Theareawassostillthatthenamesthey’dcarvedintothesandstayeduntilmorning.
A week earlier, he handed heraPolaroid.Adimmed,sunwashedphotoofhermid-laugh, hairflungineverydirectionbytheblowingwind.
"I have a copy too," Isaac explained. "Forwhenyou'regone."Hisvoicewascareful,like he was tiptoeing around a future he hadn’t chosen. She moved to hug him, herthroatthickwith all the things she wasn’t letting herself say. Her heart twisted as emotion crowdedherthoughts: sadness,guilt,anger.
"Thiswon'thurtsomeday,"shesaidsoftlyintohisshoulder.Buthejustheldhertighter.
Before that-
Under the star-flooded sky, she told him she loved him. It slipped out during a lull in conversation, just after they spotted a shooting star and laughed about making wishes. Despite shocking herself, she meant it. He looked at her as if she had hung the very stars above them. And when he kissed her, she tasted a kind of certainty she hadn’t known she’d been missing. That night, they fell asleep on a blanket, her hand in his, the ocean singing its slow song in the dark. Thefirsttimetheyspoke,shewaslatetochemistryandhadnopen.
“Needone?”Heoffered.Histonewaseasy Asoft,knowingsmileplayedonhislips.
He handed her a black ink pen and just before she could say thank you, he scribbled a smileyfaceonhercoffeecup.
Shesmiledback,amused.
Hesmiledlikehemeantit.
And in that moment, he etched himself into more than a coffee cup. Claiming a feeling neitherofthemhadthelanguagetoname.
Now-
June kept walking. A funnel cake stand to her left. Laughter somewhere behindher.Her sandalsstuckbrieflytotheboardwalk,gumorsyruportimeholdingherinplace.
Isaacwasattheringtossbooth.Hisattentiontothegame,orpretendingtobe.
She thought about stopping, justforasecond.Justtosay hi or how’ve you been? or did it hurt you too? Butnowordscame.Onlythehumoftheacheshe’dlearnedtolivebeside.
She reached the edge of the pier, where the sea was waiting. It was bluer than she remembered, more alive. Her phone buzzed, a message from her newfound roommate. June unlockedthescreen,hesitating.Shestaredatthesunsetagain.Bright.Infinite.New.
And then quietly she changed her background. To a picture of the waves. And she kept walking.
GameTime
ThesignupsheetwasalreadyhalffullwhenMariewalkeduptothebulletinboard outsideRobertSmallsHigh’sgym.Namescrowdedthepageinablurofblueandblackink, evensomedullpencilscratches. Jalen Jackson, Tyrone Miller, Damien Fields,andsoon.These weretheusualstarsoftheschool’sbasketballteam.Allyoung,inner-cityboyswhodidn’thave muchbutsneakerswithworninsolesandajumpshottothatgavethemsomethingtobelievein.
Mariehesitatedforamomentbeforeuncappingherownpen,itwasasplainastherest, asidefromthepurplesparklesthatdecoratedtheoutside.MarieBaptisteshewrote.Thehallway behindherquieted.Shedidn’tturnaround.
Thegirls’programhadbeencut.“Budgetrestructuring,”theannouncementsaidasifthat explainedanything.CoachDanielstapedanotebeneaththeschedule: Open tryouts for the boy’s team. All students welcome. Marieknewwhatthatmeant.They had tosayitwasopen,butthat didn’tmeanittrulywas.
Thatnightthekitchensmelledofgarlicandthyme.Hermotherdishedoutplatesofwhite rice,lalo,andsospwa,ausualmealservedintheirhouse.
“You’relate,”Mommasaid,droppingherforkwithasharpclatter.“Practicingagain?” Marienodded,scoopingsauceontoherrice.“TryoutsstartMonday.”
Hermothersjawtensed,shebarelychewedbeforespeakingagain.“Withtheboys?”
Marieshrugged.“There’snogirls’team.”
Hermothersuckedherteeth,shakingherhead.“You’reayounglady,Marie.Youshould begoingtothelibraryafterschoolandstudyingforthatscienceclassthatyou’rebarelypassing.
Notrunningandsweatingwithboyswhodon’tevencareiftheygraduate.”
“Theycareaboutbasketball.”
Marie’sforkpausedmid-air.Sheswallowedhard.“Goddidn’tcloseit,theschoolboard did.”
Hermotherraisedaneyebrow.“Don’ttalksmart.”
Mariedidn’tanswer Herfingersclenchedtheforktighter Godhadnothingtodowithit.
Monday. Tryouts
Thegymwasfreezingthatmorning.Thefloorpeeledfromthelayerofwaxthathadn’t beenrefreshedindecadesbutstillhummedwiththesoundofsqueakingsneakers.Mariestepped
insideandimmediatelyfeltthesidewaysglancesandthewayconversationdroppedafew decibels.
Jalenleanedonthewall,chewingapieceofgum.“Yousureyou’reintherightgym?” Beforeshecouldrespond,CoachDanielsblewhiswhistle.“Lineup!Let’sseewhat you’vegot.”
Thewarmupdrillsaloneweregrueling,suicides,layups,defensiveslides.Marie'slungs burnedbythethirdlap,butshepushedtokeeppacewiththeboys.Shewasn’tthefastestor tallestbutshewassmart, calculated Shemovedwheretheballwas going,notwhereithad been.Still,thewhispersdidn’tstop.
“Didn’tknowweweredoingcharitythisyear.”
“She’sgonnagetwrecked.”
“Coachisjustcoveringhisass.”
Mariedidn’tflinch.Sheranthesuicides,nailedherlayups,andboxedouttallerboys duringrebounddrills.Herarmsached,heranklesburned.Butshekeptshowingup.
ByWednesday,Mariehadafatlipfromastrayelbowandabruiseonherhipthatshined
bright,evenonherdarkskin.Whenshelimpedintoherhousethatnight,Mommagasped.
“OhJesus!Lookatyou!”
“It’sjustbasketball,thisishowitworks.”
“Youthinkthisisworthit?”Hermother’svoiceclimbed.“Basketballdoesn’tfeedyou.It doesn’thelpyourgrades.Youthinkcollegescareaboutalittlegirlwhowantstoactlikeaboy?”
Marieturnedherback.Shedidn’ttrustherselftospeak.Hereyesstungbutnotearscame.
Shewouldn’tgivethemthat.
Thursday. Scrimmage day.
Thegymfeltlikeabattlefield.Marie’steam,the“Benchwarmers”,accordingtothe “Starters”,wasdown10.Shehadn’ttouchedtheballonce.
Athalftime,Jalensaunteredup,wipingsweatfromhisforehead.“Howdoyouthinkit’s going?”Heaskedwithasmirk.
“Couldbebetter,couldbeworse.”Mariereplied,notwantingtogivehimthesatisfaction ofherdoubt. Sheturnedtofacehimfully,faceflushed.“Youknow,ifIgetthisspotIearnedit,same asyou.”
“Youreallythinkthey’llpickyou?Evenifyou’regood?” Thewordsechoedlouderthantheyshouldhave. Even if you’re good.Thetruthechoedin herchest.Shecouldoutworkeveryonehere,watchcountlessgametapes,spendhoursattherec centerpracticing.Noneofitmatteredifthey’dalreadydecidedshewouldneverbegoodenough.
Thepressurewasgettingtoher,thegymallofasuddenfeelingmuchsmallerthan before.Shelookedforthenearestexitandran,stillglancingatthehalftimecountdownclock.
6:38.
Shestoodinthegirl’sbathroomandstaredatherreflection,muckedwithsoapresidue: swollenliphealingover,bruisefadingbackintoherbrownskin.Shewassweatslicked,andthe 4chairatopherheadhadbeguncurlingonceagain,escapingthestiffgelsheusedtoslickit down.Hershoulderslookedbroadersomehow
Shedidn’trecognizethegirlfromher13thbirthdayphotothatsatonhermother’s dresser.Shedidn’tfeellikethegirlwhousedtolaughonweekendswithhercousins,painting
nailsandwatchingDisneymovies.Noglitter,nobabyfat.Justtiredeyesandasilenceshe couldn’texplain.
Sheleanedonthesink,palmsflat,andwhispered,“Who’sgonnaletmein?”
Shedidn’tgetananswer.
Butshewipedherface,steadiedherbreath,andwalkedbackanyway.
Second half.
Jalendrovetheballdowncourtfast,clean,cocky.Mariechasedhim.Herlegsachedbut shedidn’tstop.Heroseforthelayup.Shefollowed.
Herhandmettheballmidair,acleanblock.Gaspsbouncedaroundthegym.Theballhit thefloorlikeadrumbeat,mirroringtherhythmofMarie'sheart.Shesnatchedit,pivoted,and passeddowncourt.
CoachDaniels'voicecutthroughthechaos.“Nicehustle,Baptiste.”
Jalenstaredather,panting.Hedidn’tsayanythingthistime.Mariestoodstillfora
second.Herchestroseandfellintimewithhis.Shejustnoddedonceandforthefirsttimeall week,thenoiseofdoubtfellaway
Afterthescrimmage,Mariewalkedoutthegymwithherheadheldhigh.Sheheard Coachspeakingtoanotherteacher.
“Yougonnakeepher?”theteacherasked.
“She’stalented.”Daniels’said.
Herheartpumpedharderatthat.“ButIdon’tknow.It’sgonnabealotofdrama.Locker roomissues,parentscomplaining,andnottomentionitstillneedstobeapprovedbytheboard.
Shemightnotbeworththeheadache.”
Shefroze,backpressedagainstthewall.Hiswordslandedheavy Not worth the headache
Notbecauseoftalent.Becauseshedidn’t fit. ***
Saturdaymorningthereccenterwasemptyasidefromthesoundofhersneakersechoing acrossthecourt.
Ms.Ruizwalkedbywithabagofgroceriesinonearmandababyonherchest.
“Youdon’ttakebreakshuh?”Sheasked,smiling.
Mariedribbledonce.“Ican’taffordto,Manda,youknowthat.” Youstilltrynaproveyou’reoneoftheboys?” Shehesitated,“I’mtryingtoproveIbelong.”
Ms.Ruiztiltedherhead.“Youdo.Butyoudon’tneedtoplay their gametoproveit.Just playyours.”
Monday Morning.
Theteamlistwentup.
#15-MarieBaptiste. Nowhispersthistime,atthispointthehypehaddieddown.Sheturnedaroundandsaw Jalenstandingnearby Henodded.Nosmirk.Nocomment.Justrespect.
Marielacedhersneakersslowly,heartbeatskippingfasterwitheveryloop.Inthe
bleachers,hermomstoodstifflyinaschoolhoodieshedefinitelyhadn’townedlastweek.No signs,noshouting,butshewasthere.
Mariewalkedontothecourt,ballinhand.Thiswasnolongeraboutprovinganythingto theboys,thecoach,orevenhermother.
Shesteppedontothecourt.Thebuzzersounded.
FirstGenerationDaughter
Learntotranslatebeforeyou’vefullylearnedtospeak;speakforuswhenthewordsget stuckinourmouths,ouraccentswrappedaroundthem;answerthephoneinEnglish,butnever forgetyourmothertongue;whentheteachermispronouncesyourname,donotcorrectherifit makesheruncomfortable;donottalkback,evenwhenyouknowmorethanher,evenwhen you'reright;packleftoversthatdon’tsmelltoostrong,ricemaybe,notthedishesyourfather loves;iftheystare,justsmilelikeyoudon’tnotice,likeitdoesn’tsting;bepolite,always,even whentheyarenot;wedidnotcomehereforyoutomakeenemies;wedidn’tcomehereforyou tobesoft;youarethefirstbornhere,rememberwhatthatmeans.
Applytoeveryscholarship,everyinternship,everyleadershipprogram;tellthemyouare driven,butnotsodriventhattheyfindyouthreatening;wearsuccesslikeborroweddesigner,let itmakeyoufeelgood,butnottoogood;don’tforgettosaythankyou,evenwhenyouaregiven lessthanyoudeserve;donotstudyart,donotstudyhistory,donotstudyanythingthatdoesn’t comewithasalaryandtitleyoucanhangonthewall;majorinsomethingthatmeanssomething, doctor,engineer,accountant,somethingthatcanpayforoursacrifices;don'twastetimechasing thingsthatdon’tfeedyouoryourfuture;rememberthatdreamsareluxurieswecouldn’tafford, andyoustillcan’t.
CallyourgrandmothereverySunday,evenifyouhavenothingtosay;sendphotosbut nottheoneswhereyourcleavageisoutoryourshortsaretooshort;rememberwhereyoucome from:don'twearshoesinthehouse,don'tuseaknifewithyourlefthand,don’trollyoureyes, andkeepthemclosedwhenweblessthefood;don’tforgetwhentokneelatchurch,don'tforget
whentostand;speakrespectfullytoallelders,eventheonesthatsaythingsthatburn;offerakiss evenifyouthinkyoudon’tknowthem,they’rerelatedsomehow;whentheyaskifyouhavea boyfriend,sayno,evenifyoudo;ifhe’snotfromyourcountry,keephimquietuntilyou’resure, untilwe’resure.Rememberloveisnotsupposedtobelouderthanduty
Don’tblamethecultureforyourlonelinessorsadness,weneverhadtimetobeeither, onlybusy;don'tsaywedon’tunderstandyou,weunderstandmorethanyouthink,butwedidn’t havethewords,onlythework;rememberwebuiltthislifefromnothing,andwebuiltitforyou; everyhousewecleaned,everyoddjobweworked,everyrudenon-foreignerwefaced,wedidit foryourtomorrow;sodon’tyoudarethrowitawayforaso-calledpassion,oraboy,oralifethat won’tcarryyouforward;rememberwesurvivedsoyoucouldthrive,butonlyifyoudoitright.
Andifonedayyouwakeupandfeellikeyoubelongnowhere,likeyou'retoomuchhere tobehome,toomuchhometobehere,remember:wefeltthatwaytoo,westilldo;wejustnever saiditoutloud;remember:yoursuccessisourvoice,yourfreedomisourapologytoourselves; andifyouchoosealifethatlooksnothinglikeweimagined,andmanagetosucceed,donot forgetus.
FilteredSmiles
Toothers,theyarepetalsinaperfectbloom, Asymphonysoundingasoneinaroom.
Insidejokeslikesecretspells, Achorusofjoywhereharmonydwells. Butunderthegloss,beneaththecheers, Arewhispereddoubtsandsilentfears.
Tonguesflicklikesilverknives, Slicingstoriesfromothers'lives. It'sastage,eachrolewellcast, Theirunityaspellthatdoesn’tlast.
Butstilltheypose,arminarm, Pictureperfect,freefromharm. Whenoneleaves,therestadjusttheirmasks.
Smiling,theysiphersinsfromhushedflasks. Truthcurlsupincarseatsighs, Trustdecaysinveiledgoodbyes. Alaughtooloud,whoisitfor?
Asecretkeptbehindadoor
Atearbrushedoffbeforeit’sseen, Sonoonequestionswhattheymean.
Fromoutside,theyshinelikeamid-summerday, Laughterstitchedinsunshine,neverashade.
Matchingbracelets,groupchatsablaze, Theirselfiespolishedinacuratedhaze.
Eveninlies,there’scomfortfound Inthecycleoffakingthatspinsthemaround. It’snotallfalse,butit’snotalltrue, Likemoonlitglassthathidestheview.
Weusedtosay,
That’s the spot right there.
Asiftosay,
That's where it all began right there.
Asif,oneverysummerday, Wemadeourmarkrightthere.
Asif,withoutamaporplan, Welearnedtostand,rightthere.
Comewhatmay, Weleftouryouthrightthere.
Asiftheyearsslippedthroughourhands, Yetpausedawhile,rightthere.
Asifthewindstillplayed, Ourlaughterthroughtheair,rightthere. Asifthesunalwayssetslow,
Spillinggoldacrossthegrassrightthere.
Asifthechalkdrawingsstillclung
Tocrackedpavementunderourfeetrightthere
Asifcicadasstillhummed
Theirlazytunefromdusktilldarkrightthere
Asifthecreekstillwhispered Secretsonlywecouldhearrightthere.
Asifthescentofgrassandcharcoal
Hungthickandsweetintheairrightthere.
Asif,nomatterhowfarwestray,
We’dfindourwaybackthere.
Asifthepathswedidn’ttake
Stillwaitedforusthere.
Asif,whenskiesturnedgrayasourhair, Westillwentbackthere.
Asiftheechoeswebecame Stillshimmeringintheairthere.
Asifthesilenceinthatplace Stillrememberswewerethere.
Asif,ononesoft,quietday, We'dmeetagain,rightthere.
Asif,thoughtimeslippedaway, Westayedforeverthere.
Asiftheheartofwhoweare Wouldalwaysstartfromthere.
IRemember
Irememberthesmellofdryerasemarkers,red,blue,green,ghostedonmyfingertips. Thesoftsqueakofplastictipsdraggedacrosswhiteboardsandthefaintbuzzoffluorescentlights hummingabove.
Iremembersketching3Dboxesinthecornersofmynotebook,watchinglinesbloomintocubes whilelessonsI’dalreadylearnedspilledlikestaticthroughtheclassroomair.
Irememberbelievingteacherswereimmortalandthatadultshaditallfiguredout.Now,asIstep intotheirshoes,Ilaugh,softlyanduncertainly,atthethought.
Irememberbeingafraidofquicksand,thefloorbeinglava,andboysIwantedtolikemebut dreadedactuallyspeakingto.
Irememberthetasteoflunchables,salty,cold,alwayshalfwantedandhalftraded.Iremember chewingthroughsilenceinthecafeteriawhereeverythingfelttooloud.
Irememberwhenourupstairsneighborspackedandleft,abedbuginfestationmakingthework “easier”.Thesoundofdraggingfurniture,athunderstormthatlasteddays.
MymotherandIfollowedsoonafter,mydadstillleftbehindinthewallpaperedcapsuleofmy childhood.
Irememberpretendingtolike Harry Potter and Hamilton,memorizingspellsandsongslike passwords,tryingtounlockthefriendshipsofgirlswhonevernoticedIwastrying.Tothisday, it’sstillsealed.
Irememberschoolmorningssmellinglikebacongreaseanddread,thickandshapeless,asI lacedupuniformshoesthatneverfeltliketheyfitquiteright.
Irememberlyingaboutreading The Outsiders,andscribblingnotesIheardfrommyclassmates inthemargins.ThesmileIworegivingmemyfirsttasteofcheating.
Iremembermygrandma’sskin,silkenedandperfumedwiththecreamsandbuttersofher homeland.Theymeltedintoherwarmthalongwiththestoriesshecarried.Herhands,ahistoryI wastooyoungtoread,butoldenoughtofeel.
Irememberthedisappointmentofwinter,whentheskyturneddarktooearlyanditfeltlikethe worldwasshrinking.Butthencamepeppermintlights,andwrappingpaperrustlinglikemagic. TheexcitementoftheholidaysandthegiftsIwaspromisedconsumedme.
Irememberbeingtolditwasn’tjustaboutgifts,butsomethingbiggerthanusall.Inodded, wide-eyed,tryingtoopenmyyoungmind.
IrememberwantingthatBarbieDreamhouse.
Iremembercallingmyteacher“mom”andwishingIcoulddisappear.
IremembercryingfordayswhenIreallydidleave,mysmallgriefbloomingbeforeIeverknew realloss.
Iremembermyfirstkiss:brief,sloppy,regretted.
IrememberthinkingI’dbemarriedby26,kidsby28,milestonesonamapIdrewinapink notebookwithasparklypen.NowIfoldthatmapwithasmirkasIcreeptowardsthosenumbers withanopenmind.
Irememberthelittlegirlwhoneverlookedthewayshewantedto.Shevisitssometimesinthe mirror,nottojudge,buttosmile,proudofhowfarwe’vecome.
Irememberwhisperingsecretsinthedark,hopingitwaslistening.
Idon’tremembereverything,timehastakensome,andgentlypushedothersaside.Butwhat remains,thoseeverlastingmarkerscents,theflickeringholidaylights,andtheslightachethat nudgesmyhearteverytimeItrytobelong,thosearethebonesofmybecoming.Mymind makingroomforbetterstoriesthatwillguideitforward.