remembering

The year is 2002 and everything is still good.
You and me and Ammi
The three musketeers find a vending machine in the hotel hallway
And you say chalo, theek hai
You can have it in bed (I was always wearing you down)

I am giddy out of my shiny 6-year-old mind. 
Abba? This is the life!
And it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. 

I think life is going to be like this forever.
A fluffy white bed, small fingers wrapped around a sweating can of Fanta, 
Laughing with my dad. 

The year is not 2002 and it’s May again. 
It’s always May again and I’m still a little girl trying to bring you back to life. 
(I was always failing quietly)

Remembering isn’t a reflex anymore. 
I pull you out from the ghost cave in my heart each morning
With shaking hands just to hear a faint echo of your voice. Chalo, theek hai. 

I catch my reflection in a store window, a familiar twinkle in my own eye
The tea kettle clicks, or Dr. Pepper bubbles on my tongue, and
Suddenly I am so alive it scares me. Carrying you, a fifteen-year-old open wound. 

Somewhere, someone tucks a handkerchief into their pocket
Someone straightens their bowtie
And I remember you.