wHAT I rEMEMBER*

Do you remember eating Captain Crunch and watching Bugs Bunny and your mother fretting over the gas bill? Do you recall the look on your father’s face when the roof fell-in the rain spoiling his newspaper and your mother fretting over property taxes and ironing? Do you remember your grandmother’s coughing and the red crease on the cone of her face and your father’s newspaper spoiled with rain? I remember eating celery caulked with Cheese Whiz and beetroot and meat and potatoes boiled in the same pot. I remember the television breaking and my father hammering the top with the heel of his hand and my mother fretting over my grandmother’s coughing. I don’t remember the hospital bed in the dinning room and the goitre on my grandmother’s neck and my father’s newspaper spoiled with rain and the roof falling-in and my mother fretting over property taxes and rain. I do, however, remember eating Captain Crunch and watching Bugs Bunny on the television and meat and potatoes boiled in the same pot and the look on my father’s face when the sky fell-in spoiling his newspaper with rain.