Memory Lane

Chapter One

"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself." - Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter One

Time moves much slower when you're begging it to move faster.

It's been eight long months since the last time I rode in the passenger seat. In those eight months, the scars I endured have only seemed to settle in comfortably on my skin rather than fade away.

After I was released from the hospital, going home was no longer an option. I was in recovery for so long that my house had been cleaned out and put on the market by the time I was able to leave the hospital. So, I stayed with my grandmother in Albany at her retirement home. Her memory has been fleeting for the last few years and in the time I lived with her it was only getting worse, but I didn't mind. It was fine just the two of us. Living with someone who can't remember her own family half the time meant that I didn't have to talk about my parents. I've been able to avoid the past altogether.

Unfortunately, in the past few weeks my grandmother's memory has gotten so bad that she could hardly take care of herself, much less me. So, I've had to pack up my things to move away from New York and back to Vermont.

As my Aunt June's car starts and we begin our drive, my hands grip the steering wheel tightly and I don't dare take my eyes off of the road. The car ride starts off silent, there's not even a whisper of music from the radio. The trees we drive past on the highway have started changing colors since the calendar switched to September, but I refuse to let myself look.

"I appreciate you offering, but I could have driven," Aunt June finally says, her voice loud and high-pitched compared to my grandmother's soft, slow speech. Something about it is comforting, though.

Without looking away from the road I offer her a reassuring smile.

"I don't mind, I actually prefer driving."

She nods, watching the views around us as she tries to find something else to say.

"Allen is excited to have you come live with us, we all are."

Images of my cousin flash in my head. Before the funeral, it must have been four years since I last saw him or Aunt June. I know that I must have seen him there, but I can't quite picture what he looks like now. The day of the funeral is all a blur to me and I've spent the last seven and a half months trying to block it from my mind. All it is now is a blurry memory of countless people shaking my hand and mumbling their condolences.

"It will be nice to see him. Aside from the funeral, it's been years."

Without meaning to, I turned our small interaction into something of discomfort by mentioning the funeral. That's the thing about death: no one knows how to discuss it. I've learned that it's better to avoid talking about it altogether. So, I try to quickly move past it.

"Thanks for coming to get me, I know it's a long trip both ways."

Aunt June smiles at me, her cheeks forming small dimples that brighten her face.

"It's no trouble at all, it's only about two hours round trip and you offered to drive. Uncle Tim wanted to come too, but I told him to stay back and finish preparing your room for you! Is your favorite color still pink?"

My favorite color hasn't been pink since I was six years old. But, I fake a smile almost too easily and nod.

Eight months ago, I would have enjoyed this drive from the passenger seat. I would have raved to my parents about how beautiful the changing colors of the leaves are in early September and how my favorite colors were the maroons and oranges that fall brings. Instead, I remain quiet and listen to Aunt June rave about the unnatural color pink.