Reliving the memories

My hand trembles as I place the key in the door.  As it opens, the memories flood my mind.  Overwhelmed, bracing myself, my body enters as my mind remains at the door.  My legs move in, placing themselves on the floor – criss cross applesauce.  My eyes glance  around the room.  My hands reach for the box of memories closest to me.  Fingers, still trembling, take off the lid…

Our Dalmatian is sitting in the orange chair by the window, crying. My mom is frantic.  “The dog is choking! Help the dog! He is dying! He can’t breathe!”

There is a red velvet picture of an angry bull on the wall, glaring at me.

The blanket with the wild animals on it that covered me as a child wraps itself around me.  The animals come alive, racing toward my face, just as they did in my dreams.  They reach my face yet something is holding them back.

Easter baskets in the pantry, friends’ laughter, Rudolph’s nose flashing in the sky on Christmas Eve.

A dead frog under the bucket.  Flooded basement. The rancid smell of Miller Lite fills the room. I hear my mom crying. Sobbing.

The door to the room opens.  Someone enters.  I feel a presence, but my mind does not register his face.  My mind finally joins me.  He picks me up and holds me.  The pain fades.

Raging waters rush into the room.

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