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a christmas memory
Dec. 26th, 2002 02:17 pmmy entry in the christmas memoir marathon is:
Saleh Nufe Na
My first memory of my father is far away from snow, if not wintry darkness. I don't talk yet. I am making him laugh, in San Juan, by crawling quickly on my bare knees across a sisal rug, turning around, and sitting down, and saying, ha jaja. There was a dark cloud over his head and making him laugh was a way of making nothing out of something. I did not see the dark cloud over his head, nor did my knees sting, until after his death.
My second memory is perhaps two years later; we are on the beach in Africa body-surfing. My mother is emerging wet from the waves in her legendary strapless bathing suit, green with real gold polka dots, which peels down when she dives off ketches into the Caribbean. There are no ketches moored off Africa, only gravelly ( Read more... )
Saleh Nufe Na
My first memory of my father is far away from snow, if not wintry darkness. I don't talk yet. I am making him laugh, in San Juan, by crawling quickly on my bare knees across a sisal rug, turning around, and sitting down, and saying, ha jaja. There was a dark cloud over his head and making him laugh was a way of making nothing out of something. I did not see the dark cloud over his head, nor did my knees sting, until after his death.
My second memory is perhaps two years later; we are on the beach in Africa body-surfing. My mother is emerging wet from the waves in her legendary strapless bathing suit, green with real gold polka dots, which peels down when she dives off ketches into the Caribbean. There are no ketches moored off Africa, only gravelly ( Read more... )
