A Pictured Memory

By: Natasha Karenina Wijaya

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staring straight ahead, left and right, 

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back and forth. The silent humming blue water, synthetic greens

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bubbles forming abstract behind the glass. Fishes swimming around in square circles, 

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dazed and confused, they’ve been here before.

There were four, 

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or maybe more.

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Sitting there for what seemed like hours,

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me sixteen years younger with nothing better to do than this.

The sound of her footsteps disturbs me

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my mother with a spoon in her hand, 

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trying hard to shove it in me. The fish distracted me, or maybe 

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crying?

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Her staring at me as intensely as

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I can’t remember.

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my first memory,

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being somewhere I don’t recognize.

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Being without a care in the world yet

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it’s a memory I can barely      picture.