Can You Cry Underwater? Ch 2

[Dimaduialiel]

Can You Cry Underwater? Ch 2

I saw them in the distance, a small family of four, walking in and out of people holding ice creams, sodas, cotton candy? this place was the works, and just as I seemed to remember it minus the fuzziness of the people?s faces as they passed me by. I looked back to the family, watching as the little girl scampered alongside a boy only a few years older than her with her hand in his. All I saw though were the features of the boy?s face. He had the same blue eyes that I had, with hair a little lighter in color than mine, and a more angular jaw even if it was not so obvious. He was just as I remember him. This particular day was just as I remembered it 17 years ago. I also remembered that bump in the road that I hadn?t seen. I watched as the little girl fell to the ground letting out a small yelp. I could not do anything but watch from my place. That smaller version of myself looked up at the brother who I had loved so dearly, as he called my dad back, explaining that I had tripped over a bump.

My father looked so much younger back then; I had forgotten how much fun he could be. A smile that I knew as I watched would never be able to sit on my father?s face now molded itself onto the face of my father from back then, making him glow, if people can glow. And I felt jealous of my past self. Or perhaps my memory was exaggerating it? in order to throw me a taste of bittersweet memories that would never come to pass ever again. Gone were the days of family visits; gone were the days of park picnics; gone were the days of pleasantry within my haven of four that I had once relished in; gone was the haven of four, taken away from me with my biological brother, mother, and, along with them, the father that I had loved so dearly. The woman beside him had knelt down next to my child form and placed a hand gently under a scraped knee while my dad picked me up and hoisted me onto his shoulder. My eyes had taken note of the bright flash of a camera. I didn?t remember where it originally came from, and so the flash surrounded us all, me, my family from long ago, those around me, the animals, the world. It enveloped us in its protective white-blue hues. I saw somebody, a man, go to my father fanning a photograph taken with a Polaroid camera. Those things were quite old and very expensive I imagined; I hadn?t seen one in ages. My younger version watched the man approach and tap my father on the shoulder softly, presenting him with the newly taken picture. It was a precious moment captured on plastic. I wondered briefly where it had gone to. I had given it to mama.

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