Remembering the Good
Not every memory is bad
And I tell myself this when it all becomes too much
The remembering
The reminiscence of time gone by that branded me
The abused one
And it gets me through when I'm in fetal position
Staring out over the balcony into this new world
Where I'm to be the adult that was never modeled
I think about these moments and revisit them
A constant redemption when I feel life is too ugly
I remember pinky kisses, finger to finger
And kisses sent via air mail
Dodging them with giggles
But knowing full well I can't evade them
He told me so himself
He said it always finds its way to my cheek
Where it plants itself and grows
Never to be rubbed away or uprooted
And I loved that notion
If only his roots grew just as deep
And it would have been harder for him to leave
I remember his Donald Duck voice
and playing Trouble on the living room carpet
He would read the newspaper and sing to me
"Doctor, Doctor, Give me the news
I've gotta bad case for loving you."
And I would laugh and think he was talking to me
and the news was that I loved him too
And he was waiting to hear it
And I would never disappoint him
I remember his work room in the basement
Where he would often sleep after an hour of raised voices
And I worried he would be cold down there
So I would bring him extra blankets from the couch
And I'd sit on his bench as he carved wooden birds
Which I'd cradle in my arms, so proud of the detail
And of my father the artist, the creator of beautiful things
On the occasions when he wasn't creating fear in my heart
As for her
I remember purposefully avoiding sleep
Creeping down the steps with excuses of bad dreams
So I could curl up next to her on the couch
and watch Dateline NBC with a glass of milk
and her famous cream cheese sandwich
And as they worked out the mysteries of the world
I worked out how this must be the definition of love
The perfect recipe for a goodnight's rest
and an excuse to get more forehead kisses
the kind you can still feel as you drift off to sleep
I recall walking through the sliding doors
somewhere in a big rural warehouse
and being greeted with the soft peeps
and the smell of pine wood chips
We grabbed a cardboard box
picking out ten chicks to take home
And I kept thinking how lucky I was
That she indulged us in responsibility and fuzzy friends
She understood how important it was
Or perhaps they were to appease her own guilt
For hardly spending time with us
I feel the need to remember all this
The things that made them human
Those bits of thawed heart that hadn't succumbed to the freeze
Instead of only remembering the monster's I see in fits of sleep
when I feel like they might have found me
I remember the good things
And try to understand how those hands that built me
Became the ones that tried to deconstruct my pieces
And I can't ever get to the knowing part
Only the part that continues to seek out the good
I have to know that there is something worth keeping
Even when most of it rotted through to the center
I have to believe there is good in everyone
Even if it didn't win