Fast Forward to Look Backward

A little under-five-hundred-word first person monologue on the memories and wonders of a single life.

Childhood is a blur of color and sound; a blender full of fruit and ice cream that mixes into a delicious interpretation of whatever we want; be it strawberries, chocolate, oranges, peanut-butter...all of the good things we try to remember when lying in bed at night, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. You remember the time you and your brother had a cookie-war in the den, with crumbs everywhere and dark semi-sweet streaks on the carpet; or the first bumper-car ride with Dad; watching Mom put on makeup in the bathroom.

You wonder why the sweet blend of childhood was so fleeting; what happened? Was it one thing, or several? You close your eyes on the darkness and try to think: Was it the day you walked downstairs and heard the news about a plane smashing into buildings in a place you've only seen in movies? Was it the morning you woke up with crimson on your sheets and a pain in your belly? Was it the time you took too many pills...or the weeks you spent in that special hospital with someone always watching? Was it the time you looked back and wished you could taste the flavor of being young again? Was it when the one you left was gone, and you realized you were still in love? Was it the events that led to losing your best friend? You lay there, curled up on yourself, wondering.

And then you wonder...about another girl laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes closed and her ears ignoring the sounds of the beeping, whirring, buzzing machines; is she remembering something just as amazing as you do now? Is it: the pride of refridgerator art; that kiss on her wedding day; the cry of life after hours of pain; the movie nights with girlfriends; the faces of her children sleeping; the soft fur of her first dog; the joy of finishing high school, and then college; the day she watched her daughter go to prom with a friend; when she got the autograph of her favorite movie star; driving her first car; teaching her son how to drive; when she danced in the streets after dark...when she took the picture of her mother holding a great-grandchild.

The wrinkles and aches fade as the woman dissapears, and you melt back into reality. What will you remember when that dream comes true, when death is at your door and your life is behind you? You will not remember the money, the clothes, the gossip, and the drama. You will remember the faces and places you have seen, the laughter and tears of 80+ years...the memories of your youth are muddled now; you know this is only the bare beginning: the crisp cool promise of many, many years to come.

Author's Note

This was actually supposed to be a short story for a magazine, but ti got turned down on account of being too 'worldly'. Whatever that means. Anyway, this was just experimentation with a writing style. Tell me what you think.