The unwanted memory of Grandma
I’ve done away with that old watch. I don’t like that pleated skirt of yours, we had to wear skirts like that to school. I’m throwing out everything. Here are the plates given to me by my mother-in-law. Here is a piece of fabric woven by my grandmother, it’s worn out; I might still keep it and use it for rags. Sighing, she repeats once again: “Do away with it”.
I want to remember. The image imprinted in me – as deep as the tiniest terminal buttons – with its ornamented edges, ‘gilded’ borders, brings me back to where it is safe, to her. To remember, to have, not to throw away, to keep, to wear.