Category Archives: memories


I was 11 years old. It was summer vacation, the schools were closed. I talked my parents into letting me stay with my brother for a week. My brother lived 80 miles from my parents house and I had to take the bus and train to get there. I always liked traveling by myself, it was my favorite way to spend my life. For hours, I could sit in the bus or train and watch the landscape go by.

So, I packed my travel bag and took the money I saved from my allowance. My mom and dad gave me some additional money for the travel expenses. I said bye to both of them and walked to the bus stop to start my journey. It was an early afternoon on a sunny summer day.

The bus brought me to the train station where I bought myself a snack and a one-way train ticket. I felt happy and I smiled. I hopped on the train that arrived a few minutes late but that would bring me to my destination. I found myself a seat on a bench opposite of an elderly couple. They looked far older than 60, having wrinkles all over their faces. But the couple looked nice and they smiled at me while I sat down. I greeted them back by saying hello. Before the train left, a man sat down on the empty seat next to me. He smiled to all of us.

The conductor blew the whistle, the doors were closing, and the train got in motion. I sat at the seat closest to the window and was looking outside. Slowly but steadily the train picked up speed, and I saw the houses that were build near the track go by faster and faster.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my leg. I moved a little more towards the window as it may have been by accident. But the hand reappears, and the hand start rubbing my leg. I look at the elderly couple, scared and confused. They smile back at me. Didn’t they see this? The man keeps his hand moving up and down my leg, slowly but visible. I look again at the couple. They for sure saw what just occurred. But they just smiled…

I decided to get up and walk down the aisle to find me a different seat. But I realize my travel bag is still with the couple and the man. So I walk back and sat back down. But as soon as I did, I felt his hand on my leg again. Seeing the smile on the elderly couples faces, I picked up my travel bag and walked away. I decided to hide in a lavatory. I thought to wait till the conductor knocks on the door when he checks for tickets and then I would be safe. I waited awhile, but no one knocks. I heard no other noises than the train running on it’s tracks. So I told myself, I was just going to find myself another open seat and continue the travel.

I flushed the toilet, like I even had used it and then opened the door. I see the man standing there, smiling at me. I smiled back but start walking to the right of him. While I try to walk away, and not looking at his face, I feel his eyes following me, and I feel his smile. He blocks my path, and softly pushes me back into the lavatory. He closes the door and he takes my hand. He smiles. He opens his zipper and he guides my hand rubbing him. I feel his eyes looking at me, and his face showing a smile.

I notice that the train lowers speed, we are getting closer to the next station. He closes his zipper and smiles at me. The train stopped. He opens the lavatory door and leaves the train. I watch him exiting the train, calmly walking down the platform. He turns around and he smiles at me.

I went back to the bench with the elderly couple. They looked at me, smiled at me. I didn’t smile back.

I often turn around, look over my shoulder, but I seldom smile.



I was watching a movie where a mother says she was proud at her daughter. That alone made me think. My mom or dad were never proud of me. And now they aren’t proud of me either. They can’t be anything anymore, they are dead. My dad past away of age, 84. I didn’t go to his funeral. By dying he left me so why would I? It’s not like I called him one day and told him I would come over so he could die. My mom, I caused her dead my family says. They say I was a difficult child. I made her brains explode. After 2 aneurysms within a period of 10 days, she slipped into a coma. 16 months later she decided to wake up, live in a wheelchair for several more years, and then past away after an internal bleeding in her stomach. She didn’t like me. And neither did my dad. I have a picture of each of them. They are somewhere in a pile on the floor of my apartment.

There isn’t much in my apartment besides that pile. An old couch, a tv that is not working well, a dining room table. And dirty dishes in the sink. Not that it matters. No one ever comes over to my place. Except for my kids, I haven’t had a visitor since I moved in three years ago. Why would they come over? Never had a visitor in the place before this, and the one before that.

It’s a sunny sunday afternoon, and I am siting on the old couch. It’s dark green and left over from my married life. The tv is turned off, the movie had ended and now I am just staring at the wall. It feels like the Sunday afternoons when I was little. My dad was sitting in a chair in one corner of the living room. He had a magazine with crossword puzzles in his lap. My mom is sitting in a chair in another corner of the living room. She is doing some cross stitching. The tv is turned off. I am laying on the couch in the living room. I don’t think they notice me. They are too busy with their own activities. It’s quiet. The silence makes me stare at the wall paper. I hear kids playing in the street. They are laughing, running, screaming, having fun. They didn’t ask me to come outside. They didn’t like me.

Today is a special day though. It’s Mothers day. My Mom and Dad are waiting for one of my brothers and both my sisters to show up. After they arrive, they will all sit down, have a drink, eat some snacks. Then later that afternoon, we all go out to a restaurant to have dinner. My Mom and Dad know how to talk to them. They always smile when they are around. They never talk to me, or smile when I am around.

One of my sisters arrive with her husband. I am told to get up from the couch, they need to sit down. They start talking, smiling. I am heading to my room. I hear several times the doorbell ringing, more voices in the house, more happy conversations, more laughing. I am in my room, waiting for my sisters or brother to say hi, laying on the floor watching the ceiling and the wall.

Suddenly I hear chairs moving, and the front door to open. Then I hear my moms voice. “Come down, get your coat on, we are leaving.” I get up from the floor. I join them to leave, hoping someone says hi. Mom says “hurry, where’s your coat?” I grab my coat, join them in the car, leaving for the restaurant. No one said hi, no one looked at me. I want to stay home, staring at the ceiling and the wall.