Hour 12: A Memory

12 years ago I captured a memory,
And in that memory I saw today, writing it into history
A large room that would turn into a small room
Because my family is just that big
A small couch that would turn into a large couch
Because my aunty, she just can’t sit alone
And memories floating, getting caught in my throat
Tickling and sneezing, oozing with laughter
As my mother offers mangoes and apples on a tray
And tomorrow maybe someone would say
The mangoes were too ripe, the apples looked cheap
The couch was too old, we nearly sank when we sat
That uncle never calls enough
And grandfather can now barely talk
But he still walked that day, around the room
Silently laughing, but assuming aloofness
At how memories fade, and only laughter remains
A private, secret, shared laughter
That I sniffed, and liked and caught and kept
In my little case that I don’t have many of
Because I knew someday I would write it down.

2 thoughts on “Hour 12: A Memory

  1. I agree with Wendie! There was a lilting rhythm to this poem, almost like a dance, as you moved between moments with your family gathered together – you capture how families are/can be and you sparked an emotional response in me with lines like:
    ‘A small couch that would turn into a large couch
    Because my aunty, she just can’t sit alone’ and
    ‘And grandfather can now barely talk
    But he still walked that day, around the room’. Thank you for this lovely poem!

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