I remember the scent of basil reminds me of mama’s salad. I remember how my veggie hams tasted much better than your BBQ sausages. I remember people dropping their chores to take me to the place that I asked. I remember shifting from couches to couches and asking myself why. I remember the smell of cat pee changing to burnt wood and baked cookies on my pajamas. I remember how I could not escape from the Salat during a snooze. I remember the fried eggs made for breakfast with herbs and spice all over.
It is time when most people of the town are having a mid-day nap. It is time when the sun makes the snow shine like diamonds. It is time when some people are getting away from an empty home for a company. Cheyanne is one of them, sneaking into her Nathan’s house, craving for the jasmine tea in her dream.
"I dreamt about it. Err… wait, how did it go? Argh… I don’t remember…a man, a man who drinks the tea … but I don’t have his face anymore. Or did I see him in the dream at all? I don’t know."
Cheyanne has sliced a tomato and is dipping the portobello into the cheese. Two pieces of bread are sizzling in the cave stone stove. She shushed at the dog, Cookie, when he tried to lick up the egg dropped on the ground. Nathan, too, starts to share a story…
"I remember when I was little and still living with my family, when my grandpa was still with us, there was a group of visitors. They all looked different. They smelled good, they wore pretty clothes and they loved to play with us. My grandpa were so nice to them that I remember the day they arrived, we had the best dinner ever on this village. There were so many of them, twenty two. They were served with the meat I helped prepare. We only had meat during celebration."
The sun is setting a little bit more and creating shades extending from the acacia in the garden into the house. Cheyanne lies in the shadow with Cookie rolling next to her. She enjoys her sandwich while Nathan, back on the sofa, coffee in his hand, continues flashing his memories.
"The visitors were staying next to us. Some of them came for home visit and had football matches with us. I wish I remember all of them cause they all seemed so nice to us and they gave us clothes, shoes, books and footballs. My best buddy was this tall guy with dark short hair and dark eyes, Val. He pushed me up to the sky on a swing. Mom could never do that. Oh, and they have their own language among themselves. They taught me something but of course I don’t remember anymore. I wish I had an older brother like Val. Mom told me I could always think of the things that I want to tell Val when I drink my last bit of cinnamon milk and the message would get to him. It turned out that it was only a trick to get me finish the cinnamon at the bottom of the cup which I hated so much. Val probably never got any message from me since he left us."
© All rights reserved