July 12, 2010
Prompt: Everything was as I remembered it, yet entirely different.
Everything was as I remembered it, yet entirely different. In my memory, the limestone buildings had all been more imposing, the doorways larger, the whole place back then was a bit out of scale, making me feel like a midget in some giant kingdom. Forty years later I had grown into it and perhaps beyond it. These building reflected the way life has always worked for me. In the fifty years I've been thinking about it, my impression of my own abilities has not increased. But in the fifty years the world that surrounds me has shrunk to scale. And at this age, I realized that I should have known all along.
--Tom Hoyer, RBWG member
***
Everything was as I remembered it, yet entirely different. It was silent. The sunlight streamed across the floor, lighting up the room from the terra-cotta colored rug. Dust motes danced. The shadow of a long, sleek black cat with white paws slinked under the table. A rusty Irish setter lay on his rusty-colored rug by the door. Gradually, voices began to seep from the edges of the room; the iron stove was hot. The oven door creaked as someone took a cookie sheet of a concoction out of the oven, Oh, it was one of Jeni's concoctions. The aroma of cinnamon filled the air. Laughter. A game at the dining room table across the big room. Kerri's guitar-picking came quietly from the firepit. Little by little, the room was becoming alive. But it was still entirely different. Everything was the ghost of itself.
--Sharon Hoover, RBWG member
***
“I didn’t hear you come in,” he said. In the shadowed room I felt his presence rather than saw him. As my eyes adjusted he was sitting in his old brown leather chair.
“Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
“The light hurts my eyes.” I came and stood in front of him and peered down into his face. Dark glasses hid his sightless eyes.
“Now that I’m here, can I put a light on behind you; that way it won’t shine directly into your face?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
***
Everything was as I remembered it yet entirely different.
“You’ve changed the room around, or is it that I don’t remember how it was?”
“I’ve changed it a little, when did you get in?”
“About an hour ago; you were sleeping when I came by.”
My hands were shaking when I reached out to touch his arm.
“Don’t be afraid” he said. “I’m not made of glass; I won’t break."
“Sorry, I don’t know how to act.”
“Be yourself and I’ll be myself. “
I started to giggle. ”Then we’re going to fight and make up.”
“That sounds like it might be fun.”
--Eileen Callan, RBWG member
***
The train clacks along, taking you home. You look out the window, but the landscape breezes by beyond your attention. In the window glass, you look at the reflection of your pained expression and think about lost days and how the dead and wounded are not the only casualties of war.
Your goodbyes were never permanent. In your imagination you continued to hold her in a reverent place. With a moment’s closing of your eyes, you could bring her image into being. You could smell her sweet breath and perfumed hair. You told yourself a story – a romance that felt real. So you came back.
Everything was as you remembered it, yet entirely different. The awkwardness of the moment was total. There was stiffness in her embrace, a withholding of something important that you could not put your finger on. It felt like secrets. After a brief silence, you both tried to recover the old magic. You made small talk about everything and nothing. There was a you and a her but no us. Later, you exchanged new brief goodbyes and knew that these, at least in your imagination, would sadly end the story.
--Jim Van Loozen, RBWG member
***
Everything was as I remembered it. The apple tree in the front yard, the uneven flagstone walk winding to the front door, the shutter hanging crookedly on the second story bathroom window. Yet it was all different. This wasn't my home anymore, hadn't been for over twelve years. It used to be that when I followed the walk from the driveway to the front door I felt the tension melt from between my shoulders knowing I had reached safe haven. Now my stomach twisted in a knot. Why had I been called here? The property - just a property now- had changed hands twice since I had moved out. What had the current owner discovered that warranted a long distance call pleading with me to come as soon as possible?
--Bruce Krug, RBWG member