Memories Ingrained

The Serial podcast taught us that memories are fallible and yet it is with these memories that we live.
I am in the fourth or fifth or sixth grade and home from school. I wanted to get some kind of musical instrument for school. I always wanted to play some kind of instrument but neither had the skill or vocation. To my surprise my dad gave me $4 to buy an instrument. I excitedly walked down to grand avenue and into a music shop. $4 wasn’t getting anything. I was disappointed, I really wanted a guitar or a sax or who knows what. I went into Ben Franklins. They had a flute. It cost maybe $2. It was plastic. Against my better judgement I bought it. I spend the rest of the money, again against my better guilt infused judgment on a plastic car and gum. I walked home, not so excitedly. The gum, like treats now, not delivering on it’s promise. When I got home my dad’s mood was different. A mood I forever learned to read. He asked what I got, I want to say he asked for his change too. I showed him the car and the flute. He was outraged and wanted to know where I spent the rest of the $4. I told him gum. That did not help. He stepped on the car and crushed it. He snapped the flute in half. I don’t remember what happened next, I guess I went downstairs without dinner. Later he would apologize for breaking the plastic flute.

It is my birthday. I am 51 and feeling isolated but on this night people are around me. Adult people. We are having tacos like my mom used to make. I am cooking and chopping and talking with my friend Eric. The doorbell rings. It is some sushi Aidan had delivered for himself. I call Aidan out from his room and ask him “what is this?” and he says he just wanted to order some food. I ask him what he was thinking, that it’s my birthday and we should all eat together. He sheepishly goes back to his room.

I felt bad about it Aidan feeling bad. I was also upset. What was he thinking? Yang would later tell me he’s formed the habit of ordering his own dinner at night on the weeks he stays at her apartment. So I don’t think he had any ill intent but was doing something that felt comfortable to him. I went to his room and explained what I was thinking. I know that no matter what I do that on some level I will be an intimidating force towards my children. That in pop psychology terms they think they need my approval especially in light of the family breakup.
Time will pass. Memories will forge and then splinter and then rejoin and a variation of me will live on in my children’s heads.