Caged Memories

Caged Memories



(I need to remember).

Rin watches the clouds that her breath makes.  Weren’t they here together once, in this forest?   Something about a tree.  A tree she introduced him to.  Maybe she can find it if she looks around a bit.  She walks along the pathway, the snow crunching beneath her sandals.

A bit of the light through the tree branches catches her attention, and she looks up.  She tilts her head back so much that she almost falls over and has to catch her balance.  Snowflakes are falling, but just from the trees.  The sky isn’t snowing.  And her breath rises up and swirls around in little clouds as she exhales.  She watches it and starts to feel something familiar.

(I think I’m getting closer).

She purses her lips and sucks in a bit of air, then breathes it out in a stream.  It billows like a cloud that quickly vanishes.  She frowns.  She tries again, but it just disappears again.  Why won’t it stay?  She inhales more deeply, watching the trees, the snow, the light.  Everything.

(Almost there).

“What’s your favourite thing about winter, Hisao?”

“I guess it would be Christmas parties.  It’s nice to spend time with the people you love.  And I like to exchange gifts.  I don’t know.”

“I meant things.  Parties and gifts aren’t things.  People either.  Well, maybe some people are.”

“Oh.  Uhh... I like the lights all over the city.  And I love the snow.  I like waking up on a winter morning and seeing that everything is covered in white.”

“Snow isn’t white, Hisao.  Chicken feathers are white.  Salt is white.  The whites of your eyes are white.  Not snow.  Have you ever seen a snowflake really close up?”

“Maybe I haven’t.  Have you?”

“I did once.  It fell right on my nose and I closed one eye and got a really good look.  It was made of little, tiny icicles.  But it’s not white.  It’s not really anything.  It’s just glittery, like soap bubbles.  Only not slippery like soap.  Like a diamond, or one of those rainbows you see in a sprinkler?  Only a lot smaller.  So much smaller that you can’t even see it.”

“Iridescent?”

“Is that the word for it?  I know that lots of little rainbows just look white unless you see them up close.  Maybe our brains can't think about so many colours at the same time without forgetting them all at once.  I think that's why people aren’t very good at seeing colours, Hisao.  That’s the secret about snow.  A lot of people don’t know it, so don’t worry.  But I wanted to tell you so at least we would know.”

Rin continues her walk in the forest, and stops at a clearing.  Three large trees, one leaning a bit heavily on the other two, and a big open spot where you might come to have picnics.   She can vaguely see something carved on one of the trees.  Is that the one?  But why does it look different?  Why does it all feel so different?  Everything seems to have changed since the last time.  Is she lost?

She turns around to retrace her footsteps, but sees someone standing in her tracks.  A tall, gaunt, middle-aged man in an overcoat and a knit cap stares at her with worry in his eyes.  He approaches her briskly with his hands in his pockets.  She stares at him.  He looks sad.

“Mom,” he says.  “You have to stop wandering off like this.”

She stands there in her sandals, her feet chilled from the cold and the wetness of the snow.  Her toes curl.  She looks at the ground and shrugs.

“I went for a walk.”

He gives her a knowing smile.  “You had to think about what you think?”

“No.  I was trying to think about things I don’t think about anymore.”

The man removes his cap and runs his fingers through his light brown hair.  Rin watches him with a sense of familiarity.

“Well, that’s alright, Mom.  Just let one of the nurses know next time, okay?  They can come out here with you.  I had to leave work early because they phoned me saying that you’d run off again.”   He puts a hand on her shoulder and speaks more slowly.  “I know it can be lonely here sometimes, but you can always get someone to call me if you want me to talk or come and visit.  I’ll make the time for it.  But don’t make me worry about you.”

“Do you remember how we used to paint together?”

The man sighs and puts his hands in his coat pockets.  “Mom, you’re confusing me with Dad again.”  Rin watches his breath as it curls and dissipates.  Or maybe that’s her breath.

She shakes her head.  “No, I’m thinking of you.  When you were a little boy, you always wanted to try painting like your parents whenever you saw us.   We didn’t think you could.  We got you a paint set for your 10th birthday and you learned to paint using your mouth.  You drew an octopus wearing a hat and we told you it looked good.  You told us it was a turtle.”

“That didn’t happen, Mom.  Did you take your medicine today?”

She talks over him.  “You tried something different and learned that you could do it even better with your feet.  Remember?”

The man closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose.  “Mom, we’re going to go back, okay?  Here, put on my jacket.  You look so cold.”  He removes his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders, putting a hand on her waist and guiding her back to the forest path.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Mom, I'm never mad at you.  I love you more than anything in the world.  I just worry."

“But you don’t remember?”

“No, Mom.  That never happened.  Come on, let’s go inside.”