i've started forgetting things about my childhood.
many of my earliest memories involve shame or pain. bullying, dismissal, the horrified realization of a mistake, being yelled at, being hit, feeling guilt...
many memories also involve joy. playing outside at home and at the schoolyard, with my sibling, with my little friends, by myself. playing video games with or without others. writing my little stories that mimicked video game i played or whatever anime i was watching (such as my poorly disguised Rurouni-Kenshin-but-a-girl OC). reading books i was FAR too young to be reading. the joy and intrigue of learning something new.
my entrance into true adulthood is marked by a drastic change in landscape. the place i grew up with was razed by a hurricane in 2017, and i think in some ways a part of me is stuck in that town i knew back when the world was larger and greener and wilder, where we didn't even realize we had a neighbor because the wall of trees separating us was so thick and rich and beautiful.
i think that part of the reason i have a recent fascination with nostalgia is because there is no record of what that landscape used to look like. i remember, and so does my mother and my family at large - but my online friends don't know what that looks like. we're the only ones seeing the negative space. these was no google maps when i was a girl, and so those tall trees only live n my childhood memories.
when the hurricane cut into our yard it dragged the treeline with it - now we have more of a view. and that view is what's different. that view is my negative space.
i think a part of me is frightened that if i forget what used to be there, it might never be remembered again.
my parents are growing older.
today i spoke with my mom and dad. mom had just gotten home from hanging out with her sister, my aunts, and my dad had just gotten back from a date with his lady friend. yesterday i spoke with my older sister, and we talked about our parents, too. these past 24 hours have made me reflect on family and my parents' post-retirment lives.
it's tough to be in your sixties. you go to the doctor more often, you get sick more easily, your joints hurt (more than they used to)... my mom is an active woman and is always doing projects around the house - i knew she was getting older when she complained more often about being tired. she pushes herself the same way she used to when she was forty. but now her feet hurt more. she doesn't say it, but i feel that it must be true.
i know i'm growing older, too, when i think of how i need to care for them. i'm worried. my older sister, bless her heart, keeps a close eye on how our parents are feeling. i fear i'm not doing enough in comparison. but there's only so much i can do, with the money i'm earning. in a perfect world i would wave a wand and give my dad a proper house - wave a wand and get my mom a house for herself. but for now, all i can do is keep in touch, make them laugh, ask about their lives, and pretend to be the family historian.
i don't know how my mom was able to maintain enough mental fortitude to not do something drastic when she got stuck raising three kids by herself. and she started when she was 27! i'm already a year older than that! that's crazy!!! she worked so hard. dad did, too, but i saw mom's suffering. she's much calmer now. happier. i can only hope to do my best to keep them safe at this later stage in their lives. i can only hope to keep my sister from bearing the burden all by herself.
so here's hoping.