Sweet Memory

I wish I could forget that day,
Like I have so many other days,
So many better days that should be remembered
Rather than this day, of all days.

It was a Tuesday morning.
So ordinary and dull.
Like every other Tuesday morning.
Only it wasn't, and never would be.

Where the memory takes us is beyond our control,
It trips and stumbles on those random snippets -
The colour of your tie, what you had for breakfast -
But leaves behind that which everyone else recalls.

I didn't remember that the war had ended.
I didn't remember which horse won.
I didn't remember who was leading the country.
But I remembered you spilled jam on that awful yellow tie.

Only it wasn't jam.
It was something else.
It was that horrific red.
The kind that drips and drips and drips.

Maybe I heard you fall forward in your chair.
In my head there is only silence.
Your face pressed against the table.
I must have screamed but in my head was silence.

I remember that young man from next door.
Jack? John? Jeremy?
His eyes were bright blue in front of me.
He slapped me. That young man struck my cheek.

I don't remember the sting.
It must have stung, mustn't it?
His eyes looked so apologetic.
I remember forgiving those eyes.

I remember the interminable wait.
Days I sat there waiting.
Only minutes really. Not even an hour.
Until they came for you.

You remember that china vase you mother gave us,
the one which never seemed to match anything.
I broke it.
I don't remember doing it, but there it is.

I can see the kitchen as if I'm sitting in it now.
That striped wallpaper you said would liven up the room
But all it did was give me a headache
Until it finally faded.

I thought you might fade.
How the corner of your mouth would twitch
When you remembered something amusing.
But it's still bright in my mind.

The scream of the ambulance in the driveway.
That doesn't fade, either.
There's no other sound in the world.
Only that constant scream.

I must remember to clean up that vase.
Someone will step on it.
They will cut their foot on the broken pieces.
The pieces that aren't there anymore.

Of course it's not there now.
The young man picked it up.
Yesterday? Last week? A year ago?
I don't remember.

I remember breaking it.
It shattered as it struck the wall.
I can hear the siren screaming still.
Only there's no-one here but me.

No-one else to blame for that mess.
No-one else to yell at, to laugh with, to cry with.
No-one else to hug until I fall asleep.
No-one else but the silence.

I'm glad you can't remember the silence.
That terrible deafening silence.
The silence that filled my mind.
That dreaded silence that pulled me into the void.

I wanted to forget.
I wanted to slip away unnoticed.
That young man wouldn't let me.
He shouted at me. He struck my cheek.

I don't remember how I got here.
I don't remember where here is.
I don't remember why it's important.
Sometimes I don't remember that I've forgotten.

But that drop of jam on that awful yellow tie.
That drop of jam that isn't jam.
I don't remember what it should be.
Why can't it just be jam?