A piece inspired by Denis Hirson’s writing
Written by: Hannah Tayla Sampson
I remember Ma teaching me how to blow bubbles in my Chappies, flattening the wet piece of gum in her fingers and placing it over the front part of my tongue to blow.
I remember pretending to be a boy when I went to the toilet and experiencing both a sense of deep disappointment that my pee could not reach the toilet pot and sheer fear of getting a hiding for wetting the bathroom floor, again.
I remember chanting whoo- looka-loo-loo after someone was accused of lying in primary school.
I remember falling with my back first flat on the grass after trying to pull a unique jungle- gym stunt by swinging and then flinging myself to the next pole above my head.
I remember my sister driving her demon possessed comb through my unruly hair, trying to fight the spidery knots.
I remember being both enraged and sweaty eyed because a boy at school ruined a collage, I had made on a Zac Efron poster, sourced from the ever reliable You Magazine.
I remember folding tiny bits of paper, containing silly messages, to friends in class.
I remember swimming in a lagoon and then suddenly experiencing a stinging sensation on my face after being thrown with a clump of underwater mud and grass.
I remember the trickle of blood charging down the contours of my calf after cutting my leg while shaving.
I remember playing with the soft hairs of a naartjie, still stuck in the corridors of my teeth, with the tip of my tongue.
I remember the white ankle length vintage nightie I wore the first time I played a lead actress in a high school production.
I remember his gazes of beholding.
I remember the soft caress of his cheek against mine as he unflinchingly wound his arms around me in the shadows, like that of a person who was relieved to see someone whom he had not spoken to in while.
I remember the convulsions of heartbreak and disappointment coming in tides of tears and quick tempers.
I remember sitting on my bed staring at the bright yellow leaves of the lemon tree outside my bedroom window and breathing in air of relief, and contentment, and pure bliss at the thought my changing seasons.
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