Cracking Open the Memory Box

She’d pull her hair, mean as a rhinoceros. But I do care, though she skipped school on that fateful final day of her life on earth. Funny how I did not know about it. Until yesterday I’d have thought she lived, waiting to die like the rest of us, one day. I cracked open the box to grab the handful of group’d Catholics - kindergarten to sixth. We all look sweet when we smile, we’re fixed up by parents who care how we look on the outside. Surprised how I remember many of the names and just as surprised at the forgotten ones. For me, I had teeth missing, one black tooth, one collar tucked into my dull-colored jumper. Jealous of the moms who’d fix ribbon’d pigtails. My favorite of me was in fifth, showed I was pretty, too. I go from student to student through seven years. All dear to me, now. Each soul, each name - perhaps I shouldn’t have compassion on each but I desperately want to believe in their goodness. 2/6/2021