What does life consist of if not moments stitched together to form a quilt or perhaps even a spider web in which to trap those things you desire. Something here. Something there. I remember, at the age of two, I think, a red balloon floating in the dusky sky. It was so beautiful as final orange rays of the sun lit it with a glow.
I remember boys pulling my long hair in school. I remember a teacher who told me to color in the lines and then ripped my coloring sheet in two and insisted I start over. I remember, later, my first kiss on the football bleachers with a boy named Justin. We were at a Varsity football game and he leaned sideways just as I was turning my head to him. It wasn’t very pleasurable. It was wet, sloppy, and undesired.
I remember one of my college professors. I flirted with him. I was always showing up at his office hours. He was married. I acquired my own studio apartment. I told him I had an antique map of Prussia. He showed up at my apartment, nearly drunk and I lost my virginity. He was upset when he saw the blood. I went to the restroom. He knocked on the door.
“I’m leaving.” He sounded afraid. After that, I never showed for class unless an assignment was due. I knew he was afraid I would lodge a complaint. There was too much shame though. What ensued was my first depression.
I remember the party in New York City at an artist’s loft. That’s when I met your father. He was a writer and he made me laugh. We married six months later and then came you and then your brother.
“When your brother…got hit…killed by the car…your father caved inwards. It was like he no longer had bones or organs. I had you to live for and care for. Your father left me on Valentine’s Day. He brought roses and then said he would put them on the grave. He packed two bags and left.”
I coughed and grabbed your hand. “Life is moments,” I repeated. The medication was making me drowsy. The hospital bed was quite comfortable.
“I remember using my inheritance and traveling the world. You remember, Grayden? Don’t you? I told the school I was homeschooling you. We spent two years wandering the globe and I taught you so many things. You picked up languages fast, especially French. We spent the most time there.”
“I remember, Mom.” Grayden cried silently.
“Then Antonin came along.” I grew very quiet. I could hear the beeping of the machines and the whoosh of oxygen. “I didn’t know about the abuse Grayden. I didn’t. I’m sorry I left you with him so much. When I found out I stabbed him in the hand. Did you know that?”
“Yes. Mom.”
“Life is moments. I grew old and then I bought that farm in Vermont. You barely visited. You were a globe-trotting journalist. I’ve been so proud of you Grayden. Now, I must say goodbye. You’ve done so well. Are you happy? You still drink too much, don’t you?”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Try to remember more good moments than bad. Think of the best of your life and the kind people who have passed through it. Promise me?”
Grayden nodded his head and then I chuckled. “You were such a fat baby. A doll.”
I closed my eyes and I let the moment pass. My moments were over.
THE END