My father fell down the stairs. Part II.

Remember when you would call me your only son?
Remember when I piled up boxes and stools to reach the top shelf of my closet and it all came crashing down on top of me and it had woken you up and you came into my room and gave me my first and only spanking? Remember the bruises I had and that you had thought were from your hands but they had been from my fall?
Remember when you would bring me to the track with a stop watch? I wish I could have run faster.
Remember when mom left and you cornered me in the porch to let me know that my mother was a whore and I was just like her?
Remember showing me that Linden tree leaves in the springtime taste like fresh green beans?
Remember when you told me that music was a good hobby until I got married? I'm divorced now. Can I sing again?
Remember how you wished I would become a lawyer?
Remember that night when you and mom's boyfriend stood face to face and I took my brother out of the mix and dragged him to the backyard and held his shaking shoulders while he puked?
Remember how you laughed when I told you that I would one day have a job I loved wherein I could support myself and choose my own hours?
Remember how you would never call me pretty or beautiful because those terms should not be used when describing a daughter. Did you know that I still don't trust those words when I hear them today?
Remember that night when you lit my cigarette for me?
Remember when I caught my first pike and set it free because it was a fighter and I believed that it deserved a better fate than being caught by a girl.


Did you know that what makes me most angry and upset right now is that you got drunk and fell down the stairs? Did you know that stored within that one event is a lifetime of memory?