Indian Rocks Beach, The house on 20th Avenue before it was demolished
The white hallway walls covered in crayon drawings, preschool cave paintings by Dom and I
Hand-me-downs from our cool cousins in North Carolina. Red plaid boxers and a smiley face tee shirt, corduroys.
Seeing mom cry for the first time. Something about Burger King
The bright red Lumina, before and after the crash
Mildred Helms elementary. The storyteller in the library, milkweed and monarch caterpillars
Kraft mac and cheese with brocoli
Becky the babysitter with braces. How I thought the rubber bands were gems
Simon, my invisible alien friend. Dom had Trisha the T-Rex who would come to speak with her through the bedroom window.
When Dom broke the trampoline and landed with her ass in dog shit.
Drawing in mom's bed with Home Shopping Network on the TV.
Riding the lawnmower down to the beach with Dad
Talking to Dad on the radio in the living room. We faxed him our drawings while he was in the middle of the gulf.
Sitting on the picnic table in the backyard crying up at the stars. Digger with her head on my lap, leaving it only to lick my face
The dream about mom folding a limp Digger into a cardboard box at dawn. This was when she went missing, I was convinced my mother had killed her and hidden her body in the garage.
Lipstick on Grammy's forks. Repulsive.
The way Grammy's dogs smelled after a walk. Breathing from my mouth.
Eating McDonald's chicken nuggets at Nana's apartment while she watched soap operas.
Singing Noel on the dock late one night