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From "Up High in the Trees" - Wachimachi [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

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From "Up High in the Trees" [Dec. 11th, 2008|04:55 pm]
A special book, I want to remember it. And because of that, I'll write down the last page.


    It's a crawl space, I say.

    Mother told me this was the best place to hide in the whole house.
    I remember she wated for me to get home from school and she said, Let's disappear. We hid together and she held my hand in the dark. All the noise in her head went away.
    We won't come out, she said, until we're sure they miss us.
    Mother felt like she was disappearing and I felt like I was growing. She let go of my hand and I was everywhere in the dark.

    Woah, Jackson says, cool.
    I point my flashlight so we can see.
    Shelly pushes Jackson in first and then I go. Shelly comes in last. We sit, not talking. I point my flashlight startigh up at the low ceiling and the light shines back down on us.
    I listen to Dad's voice talking downstairs. I listen and wait to hear Leo's voice and Cass's voice, too. They're happy, sitting around the table. Dad's face is warm, I know, and his ears are red from laughing. Their voices make me safe.
    When Jackson pulls the short door all the way shut, I can't hear the voices talking to each other anymore, but I know they're still there.
    Turn the light off, Jackson says.
    I turn off my orange flashlight and the dark is so dark I can't see Jackson or Shelly. I can't see my legs or y arms or my hands. Shelly puts her hand on my face. She spreads her figers out on my cheek and holds her hand like that so she can know I'm still here. I listen to the quiet and I hear Jackson's nose sniffling. The dark is dark like the inside of my head. I can see Jackson like he's a picture. I can see him wiping his nose on the back of his hand, but really, I can't see him at all.
    Shelly giggles. I like this, she says.
    Shh, Jackson tells her.
    I think about how I want to be here, where I am right now.
    In the dark my body is growing, filling up space so that I can reach all the way to where Mother is. My chest is big and warm. I can feel time, my whole life stretching out and out.
    I know what to do. Tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. I'll take more pictures and my album will fill up.
    I promise, Mother, I'll remember everything.


Sebby, 8 years old, deals with his mother's passing. The way it's told is very... impacting.


see ya, readers.