I remember the flannel sheets on my childhood bed---rows of farm animals and picket fences.
I remember the summer we had a soda machine stocked with Shasta for 25 cents.
I remember the time I poured a Shasta fruit punch on my neighbor Richard and he fruit punched me right in the face.
I remember that Richard got in trouble more than I did.
I remember playing kickball in the street with the crowd of neighborhood kids when the sun went down and there was no threat of school tomorrow.
I remember the summer I watched M*A*S*H every night with my brother John.
I remember driving with my dad to California for a relative's funeral. I had just turned sixteen and he let me drive for hours and hours.
I remember when my mom was going through menopause and how badly I wanted her to return to her normal self, to return to us.
I remember going to B&D burgers with my church friends and our coach after a ball game. I wrote a silly poem on a napkin. My coach read it and said, "You're a writer!"
I remember thinking, "I am?"
I remember asking my sister Leslie to borrow her clothes.
I remember her mostly saying no.
I remember wishing I had clothes that she would want to borrow to give me a little leverage.
I remember thinking that leverage would help in a lot of things.
I remember playing Mario Brothers for hours at my friend Robyn's house.
I remember watching Saved by the Bell at every opportunity, even though I swore it was the stupidest show on TV.
I remember memorizing the phone numbers of friends.
I remember the cracks in the cement in our driveway.
I remember Magnum P.I., The A-Team, MacGuyver, and Remington Steele, the shows we watched with my dad.
I remember the deliciousness of ramen noodles.
I remember cleaning the house on Saturday mornings.
I remember the view from the roof of our house and the grip of the shingles under my feet.
I remember the epic messes I made in my bedroom and not knowing where to start to clean them up.
I remember bossing around my little brothers and secretly wishing they liked me.
I remember waiting for phone calls on Wednesdays or Thursdays from neighbors needing babysitters on Friday or Saturday night.
I remember the cool, dark basement and our first fat black TV remote control.
I remember examining the bump on my nose for hours in the bathroom mirror and wishing it away.
I remember my sister April's room, a forbidden land with dark wood paneling. Sometimes I'd sneak in and stand there, just to see what it was like.
I remember getting my period. I was horrified and hoped for a speedy death.
I remember cramps.
I remember our stackable kitchen chairs with chrome trim and brown woven upholstery.
I remember my mom's 9 x 13 metal pan with the sliding lid, our family name written in permanent marker.
What do you remember?