Carrying A Memory

 

At 43, I carry the feeling of a small hand pressed against mine 17 years ago. I take this in the place of a secret, of a yearning, of an addiction, of a lie. Buried under the bowels of the heavy earth, the image will appear in my head, like a faithful ghost aged by the many years.         In this memory there is a sun that is still pouring its bright colors over the scenery. The streets are loud and active yet I am so absorbed in the feeling of a little hand grasping mine. I gaze down at the child to find a misalignment in the collar of his shirt and release those precious animate fingers to adjust it. Hurriedly, his hand jumps back into mine afraid of getting lost in the crowd of other hands on that busy day, on that busy streets. He is content again as he feels the tender stroke of his mother. I nurture and stroke the little hand as the wind quietly presses itself through. It is small, with wild fingers and skin of velvet. I hold it and the fingers so eagerly wish to grow beneath mine.         We walk a great distance, away from the noise of the honking cars and the heavy odors in restaurant corners, away from the crowds and the street vendors.         "Where are we going," the child asks repeatedly, puzzled by the nature of our unexpected walk.         "To a place with all the things you could ever want," I reply again and again in the same promisingly tone.         "Are we going… to… oh, I know the toy store,” he suggests using his wishful thinking.         "Be patient for a while," was my all I could say.          I hold his small hand as it grows heavier and heavier. His legs begin to tremble, but we walk and walk, hand in hand, until the day becomes dark, until the streets become unfamiliar.         I remember how I grab tighter so as to remember that touch for the years to come. I turn to face him, "Hey?" He responds quickly without the energy to look up, "Can we stop, can we take a break?" "Yes, but I think I dropped something important a few blocks back, wait for me here, okay?" I whisper encouragingly.         Without looking back I hold his hand a bit tighter, then let go. Walking swiftly, I count the steps that it takes before I am no longer a mother but a woman with a memory that will become 17 years old. I walk and walk, turning the corner leaving the child behind. Alone, with large watery eyes, the little boy watches as I disappear behind a building. At 43, I carry the feeling of a small hand pressed against mine 17 years ago. I take this in the place of a secret, of a yearning, of an addiction, of a lie. Buried under the bowels of the heavy earth, the image will appear in my head, like a faithful ghost aged by the many years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

Reviews

[Jonathan Bryant Dean]

This is a sad story of remembrance. I like what you have described, and the plot is atrong. There are some small editing issues. I noted a few run-on sentences, but I do not feel the need to point those out.

I will bring your attention to a few phrases that I thought were incomplete:

It be content again as it feels the tender stroke of its mother. Now we will walk a distance this hand and I. "Where," the child asks very puzzled by the journey. -- Should there be another word between "It" and "be"? Maybe it would read better as, "It will be." And there should be a question mark after "Where."

Inside of this memory there is child's hand, there is my hand, and then there is a boy and his mother. -- There should be another word in the underlined phrase. Maybe "a" or "the."

This is not a slam by any means, just what I hope you will see as a helping hand.

JBD

[Nick Erickson]

Very sad write... and I wasn't sure what to make of it. I felt so sorry for the young child. Very vivid and imaginative.

[Tania Leigh]

I enjoyed this immensely....great imagery, great dialogue. Pulled emotion out of me.

Great write! This one is going in my library.

[Vincent Weathers]

Hmm. A sad story indeed.

"His legs begin to tremble, but we walk and walk, hand in hand, until the day becomes dark, until the streets become unfamiliar." --- "His legs begin to tremble from the many hours of walking; but we walk on, hand, until the day is dark and the streets become unfamiliar."
I think all you really need is a semi-colon in at that place.

Near the end, I thought of something that could also direct an eye toward the heart broken.
when the boy asks if "we could take a break" a social services building is across the street.

"The streets are loud and active yet I am so absorbed in the feeling of a little hand grasping mine."
insert a semi colon between "active" and "yet".

'We walk a great distance, away from the noise of the honking cars and the heavy odors in restaurant corners, away from the crowds and the street vendors. " I am not entirely sure of the grammar but I have a feeling something is incorrect. I think you also could be a little more vivid in detail: like for example---
"heavy odors in restaurant corners" what sort of odors, was it because of the "rank" or the prominent odor of fish/beef/oils etc...
Other than that, I think you might want to take other's thoughts into consideration.
I hope this helps.

[Jemal]

Hmm, o.k. I'm gonna spend a little more time on this piece like you asked...

"Buried under the bowels of the heavy earth," - I don't like the earth reference because it doesn't go with the image being in her head. I know what you're shooting for. Try making earth something like "discarded memories of pain" or something else to show it is mental.

"on that busy day, on that busy streets." - Either delete ", on that busy streets" (which I think is the better choice) or make it "on those busy streets" or "on that busy street."

"I nurture and stroke that little hand" - can you really nurture a hand? Rework this line. Delete "nurture and" or do something like "I nurture his soul by stroking his little hand"

"was my all I could say. " - delete "my". Also expand on it. Why was all that she could say be patient? Why is she repeating to a place with all the things you could ever want? Is it because she can't provide for him properly?? Expand on this. If the point is just to hint at it, then leave it. But it seems more like she's reminiscing.

Generally, one to two sentences are not a paragraph. Either add to those paragraphs or try to break up some of the sentences into smaller bites. For instance, "His legs begin to tremble, but we walk and walk, hand in hand, until the day becomes dark, until the streets become unfamiliar." Could become "His legs trembled from the hours of walking. But (yes I'm breaking the rule) we walked on, hand in hand, until darkness came. Darkness and unfamiliar streets were the sign to stop walking."

"I remember how I grab tighter so as to remember that touch for the years to come. I turn to face him, "Hey?"" - delete "I remember" and re-work. "Wanting to remember the touch and feel of his hand for years to come, I grab it tighter." or something.

"He responds quickly without the energy to look up, "Can we stop, can we take a break?"" - you miss an opportunity here. Unless it really happened that way, then consider having the kid look her in the eye and explore the emotions she should feel knowing what comes next.

""Yes, but I think I dropped something important a few blocks back, wait for me here, okay?" I whisper encouragingly." - This feels a little forced. He seems smart and no kid that I know would go for this without a ton of questions. Make it concrete like a key or something. Have her look for it. "a few blocks back" is too long. Consider, having her pat her pockets or look for her purse, then claim she dropped and wants to go look for it. She had it a few minutes ago. Have him go back to the toy store theme and her then talk about how they need it to get him all the things he could want. This plays on the fact that again, she doesn't have the money to take care of him which is why she's gonna leave him. You can even have her hope that he will one day understand the secret embedded message of why she's abandoning him.

"I count the steps" - o.k. so how many steps does it take? Is it 5? Or 20,000? or Is she still walking and counting to this day? Since you use it as a vehicle to tell us that it was 17 years ago...make it some number, but they could take minutes or even weeks/months of walking.

"with large watery eyes" - why is he crying so soon? Doesn't he still believe that she's gonna come back? Make it something else that shows his faith that she will come back. Consider adding a paragraph changing the imagery here to her imagination about him standing alone getting scared and crying when he realizes that she's not coming back. Maybe even have him holding his hand up reaching for hers and crying. Or have him grab some other lady's hand to walk him away taking him to better....or worse.

"43, I carry the feeling of a small hand pressed against mine 17 years ago. I take this in the place of a secret, of a yearning, of an addiction, of a lie. Buried under the bowels of the heavy earth, the image will appear in my head, like a faithful ghost aged by the many years." - I don't like this paragraph. "I carry the secret feeling" might be better. I'd drop the next sentence entirely. I think instead of repeating the introduction paragraph, you write something else that plays on the same feelings. Maybe "For 36 years, I've carried the feelings of his small hand in mine. A heavy secret that I've tried to bury time and time again in the recesses of my mind. Memories of yearning to hold that hand again. A desire to dispel the lie of my non-motherhood and become a mother to that small hand again. Buried deep inside. Yet, like a faithful ghost they reappear unbidden to remind me of that long walk, and his small hands." Of course, you have to use your own voice, but I'd like it wrapped up a little bit. You could also just end with a paragraph about the boy walking away with his hand in the hands of another new mother as suggested above.

Don't get me wrong, I still love the piece. In fact, that's why this is so long. I think the subject and your voice are great, and this piece has the potential to be a masterpiece. Polish it and then try to get it published.

Let me know if you want me to delete the review. I'm torn between putting it in a review and just e-mailing you my notes. I'm opting to publish it so that others can comment on my suggestions as I'm sure there will be disagreement and enlightenment and expansion.

[Jemal]

I have to admit that at first I didn't like this piece. Then I skipped to the end and figured out the story. I won't comment on editing issues, but I liked the story and its set up.

[Celtic Cat]

Woah~~~ that's heavy and deep and utterly painful. This is extremely sad and very well written. If fiction, I say, excellent job. If truth, I say "God Bless you both". This definitely pulls at the heart strings.

[Daniel Pylican]

Wow that is a good bit you have there, please do keep it up i would like to know what happens next

[dead]

Sad tale with a haunting quality � a child is a parent's heartbeat � the touch remains � had they not walked as fast then he would not have been tired, he would still be here. Powerful writing, I like the lingering traces of surrealist atmosphere in the story, a level of uncertainty as we become metamorphosized like Cygnus who turned into a swan.

[Nicole (Carpe Diem)]

such a sad tale, beautifully written... thank you for sharing

[Kaykay]

this is a sad story .