When The Memory Doesn’t Remain

Posted: July 19, 2015 in Short Story
Tags: , , , ,

2015-06-07 18.39.30

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like I’m losing my mind.  I was just telling my roommate about this epic comic book collection that I had in my parent’s attic, but now I can’t even remember owning any comics. I remember staying up late at night under the blanket with a flashlight reading… something. I have no idea what though. Surely I was reading something.  That’s why I was holding… What was I holding?

“Well, anyway, I’m really looking forward to the yard sale this weekend. It’ll be tough saying goodbye to all of my old stuff, but at least it will go on to someone else and not just sit around collecting dust.”  As soon as the words pass my lips, I feel silly. I guess I’m just trying to sound like I was a normal kid, but I don’t remember owning any toys, which is so very strange. I can’t think of a single thing that’s mine that could be in the yard sale.

All of a sudden, the phone rings, and there’s this woman’s voice on the other end of the line. She’s crying. You can hear the trauma in her voice. Before I can interrupt she just keeps going on and on about how this horrible fire ripped through her house and burned all of her pictures and important documents like birth certificates and diplomas. She’s grateful that she got out alive, but she’s distraught over how many memories were destroyed.

I feel really bad for her situation, but as soon as she pauses, I use the opportunity to ask, “who is this?”

“What do you mean ‘who is this’?” she asks. “This is your mother, and this is no time for joking around. Oh wait, I’m so flustered, did I even dial the right number?  Is this Joseph?”

I pause before responding, “I… don’t know.”

How does that make you feel?

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