pseudo-memories

I trudged each step through the sand, heaving my legs up as fast as my feet sank.  I slammed my hands onto the side of the red steel to rest, shortly before releasing a yelp from the scorching metal. I dropped to the ground under the shade of the pick-up truck and dug my hands down into its soothing, cold depths. Eventually, I pulled my hands out. I sat there playing in the sand drawing pictures in the ground, smoothing out the dirt every time I finished one to. Every now and then I would dig a small hole to the side to gather damp sand, a more firm foundation to draw the pictures, the lines presented much clearer. Time passed by. I found a nearby stick to use instead of my fingers which brought excitement and improved the sand illustrations. Soon, I would gather more materials, leaves, sticks, rocks, and create a small fantasy world out of the forage.

I could see in the distance my dad gathering his materials which meant we would be leaving soon. I stood up to brush the sand off my clothes, as much as I possibly could. I slowly made my way to the passenger side door and opened it I kick all the sand I could off my feet. My dad put all his tools away in the back, kicked the sand off his shoes before stepping inside. He cranked the truck up and put the air conditioning on full blast. With my feet still dangling outside I gave them one final beat on the trucks side and swung them in. I stuck my face right in front of cool air, I took a sip from my dad’s water bottle. He slammed the door closed and I followed suit. My dad unfolded the small towel in the middle of the console, revealing the neatly laid coins he would obsessively organize, he wiped his face and neatly folded it back in its place. We drove through the sand onto harder sand, then onto clay, then onto a main street. I accidentally touched my bare skin to the plastic console which was burning from today’s extreme heat, I quickly checked my sitting situation to make sure no other skin was exposed to either that or possible a seat belt. Today was a day I thought we could easily fry an egg on the hood or even better bake blueberry muffins. Even though I know eggs would be more feasible then basking muffin batter, I don’t think the muffins would have worked at all really unless we made some sort of contraption, the effort would not have been worth it, unless we were that bored.

***

I know I will never be ever to recall all my memories, I’m not supposed to anyway. Some people have great memories, as in they are great at remembering things. I have never been great at remembering things. It takes so much effort for me to remember everything I need to. What I recalled above is when I think about the times my dad would pick either myself or both my brother and I from school to go sit at the construction site as he finished up his day, or maybe when we weren’t in school and didn’t have a sitter. Anyways I will never be able to fully recall those times I can only think about things that I would have done and can remember doing at some point. It’s all mixed around in my head. I have not tried hard to compartmentalize anything, nothing in particular has been ingrained, and maybe the practice of building and destroying my worlds as a child was developing me to be like this. I think its made resilient because I do not accept things as finite, I know things change and that things need to change often in my world. Stability has it’s place, like the damp sand helps make things clear, a more solid foundation helps my home stay where it needs to be for a longer time, but that’s never the end of it, it makes sense to begin the process again and again, it makes sense