Little memories return as everything else fades away. I'm dying or losing my mind. I embrace either. Both are eternal bliss.
I remember 1975. Everything seemed like a cartoon. Life was elastic. Temporary tattoos. The Groovy Ghoulies. The dark, violent, painful memories that left shadows lurking in my soul.
I was stuck in the echo chamber. I could hear everything. The wings of a fly buzzing around the classroom and the silence after it's feet made loud clacks as it landed on my desk. Clocks ticking in the classroom. The breathing of other students. The sweat dripping from Refugio's forehead and hitting the floor. Mrs. Schneider rubbing her fingers on her forehead in frustration of quiz answers. But then that was all silenced by the loud buzz that pierced my ears. At times, a short lived high pitched siren-esque attack and other times a low drone that lasted for hours. I had to learn to read lips, during those episodes. I thought I was going mad.
The only escape was when Refugio and I would wander to our sacred field of Lamium amplexicaule to play marbles. Bella would tag along because everyone else made fun of her. She had seizures and emanated the overwhelming chemical smell of her medicine. Refugio and I didn't mind. As we played marbles, we talked about the heroes of WW II. It was only thirty years in the past. Close enough to touch. The little purple flowers made me think of London for some unknown reason. Poor Bella would offer a whiff of chemical warfare. Our battle of agility with marbles, was our attempt at being soldiers and tossing grenades. We defeated the Germans every time.
Sometimes Lavonne Fox and Stacey Greenwood would come out and cheer for the marbles. We liked those days. Lavonne had a little transistor radio, and we could hear songs from England. Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. We were little gods and goddesses in our field of purple flowers.
Monday, we were 8 years old. Trading cards, playing marbles, and singing "You're a Grand Old Flag."
Fiday, I'm 59, still hear all the noise, but don't know where my childhood friends are. No time for flowers.
