Memories

I remember Australia,
Baked bean sandwiches eaten on the trampoline.
Daddy grilling steaks, happily whistling,
Mommy pregnant, making strawberry ice cream.

And my sister and I chasing the magpies away.

I remember Switzerland,
The tram number six that took me to a racist school.
Daddy throwing his plate on the floor,
Mommy crying: he didn’t like her cooking with cream.

And my sister, my brother and I eating midnight snacks in secret.

I remember Kuwait City,
The way the sand dirtied the red velvet curtain.
Daddy slapping my face: I had been caught smoking,
Mommy buying grape juice so we could make our own wine.

And the three of us burning our tongues on fresh baked pita bread.

I remember Germany,
My first dance where a boy kissed my lips goodnight.
Daddy drunk, passed out on the couch,
Mommy making him tea right after he had been sick.

And my brother banging his head on the cold marbled floor cause Daddy had been screaming.

I remember Paris, University,
My small room on the fourth floor of a dorm.
Daddy disowning my sister for lack of respect,
Mommy in tears everytime I was on the phone

And the hundreds of jokes I told during my visits, hoping to make one of them smile.

And I remember the plastic Christmas tree,
The food I wouldn’t eat: that was in Egypt.
Daddy not opening the present I gave him,
Mommy saving it for later, pretending nothing was wrong.

And my sister, my brother and I sharing dreams, squeezed against each other on his big bed.


And I’ll never forget,
The three of us holding our hands,
Praying together on the back seat of the car,
That we wouldn’t die tonight.

Because daddy was drunk and he was the one driving.