he remembers
from a freewrite I did with my students last weekend. The assignment was to write about an emotional thing, like falling in love, crying, loneliness, without cliches. To start with "I remember" or, as one of the students suggested, "he/she remembers"
He remembers sitting in a shower with her, water coming down all around. He had never been with someone that way, just naked together, not ashamed or even aroused. He remembers the rings on her fingers, middle and pointer, the rings bright silver, watching her pull them on and off while she talked. He doesn't remember what they talked about. The water slicked their hair down, they kept blinking and ducking their heads to keep it out of their eyes. It made her hair dark, like his. It made her skin pink. The shower stall was small, level with the bathroom floor, they had their knees up but their toes still almost touched. He remembers what it was like to touch her whenever he wanted, so casual.
The last time he saw her, fully clothed in the passenger seat, he wanted to put his hand on her leg, feel the warmth of her under her jeans, but it wasn't allowed anymore. Their breath fogged the windshield and he cracked his window to clear it. It was early morning, bright sunshine, and his head hurt from fighting all night. He breathed in the cold that hurt his nose and throat. He turned on the car to drive her home.
He remembers sitting in a shower with her, water coming down all around. He had never been with someone that way, just naked together, not ashamed or even aroused. He remembers the rings on her fingers, middle and pointer, the rings bright silver, watching her pull them on and off while she talked. He doesn't remember what they talked about. The water slicked their hair down, they kept blinking and ducking their heads to keep it out of their eyes. It made her hair dark, like his. It made her skin pink. The shower stall was small, level with the bathroom floor, they had their knees up but their toes still almost touched. He remembers what it was like to touch her whenever he wanted, so casual.
The last time he saw her, fully clothed in the passenger seat, he wanted to put his hand on her leg, feel the warmth of her under her jeans, but it wasn't allowed anymore. Their breath fogged the windshield and he cracked his window to clear it. It was early morning, bright sunshine, and his head hurt from fighting all night. He breathed in the cold that hurt his nose and throat. He turned on the car to drive her home.
posted by Elizabeth Thorpe at 12:10 AM
4 Comments:
This is really quite affecting, the details of the rings, the hair.
I remember (no joke intended) you gave this prompt to us once, the first day, the first year I took your class. I churned out a horrible love poem. It's probably still sitting in my desk drawer. I don't throw my notebooks away.
Anyway, I hope it's not creepy to have a former student read your blog. I just admire your writing, that's all.
Thanks, Ben. "I remember" is my favorite first-day exercise. It sort of eases people into the idea of doing freewrites. I usually can't focus enough to write while I'm teaching, but it worked this time.
I'm glad you're reading -- I appreciate it. Sometimes we all feel like we're writing in a vacuum. (At least, I think we all feel that way.) It's nice to know that sympathetic readers are out there.
I hope your writing's going well.
You're probably right. I know I feel that way, at least.
Sometimes, I don't know whether a vacuum can help or hurt. I have the impression my work has grown this summer, but then I worry that I'm too concerned with this publishing game.
i sometimes use this prompt, too...got it from Writing Down the Bones (not a great book about writing--though, is any?); i like the prompt that follows it even better: i don't remember...
to edit a freewrite: cut "but it wasn't allowed anymore"
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