I Remember

I remember when it was my birthday last week. I remember when I was in Spain with Kat and Kara and Katie, and we went out to Swing the very first night we were there, even though we were exhausted from a day of traveling. Swing doesn't open until 3 am, and they had never made it before. But we made it. And it wasn't that great. I remember dancing. For so many years of my life, in so many shows, with so many different costumes. We spent hours in the dressing rooms at Audrey Auditorium, playing with make up, eating food in the halls so Bonnie Matthews wouldn't yell at us, putting fake eyelashes on each other. Then the call over the intercom would say come up for warm up, and we would drag ourselves up for class, then run back down excitedly. Elizabeth would give us her motivational speech which would actually motivate us instead of just being something annoying. I remember when my mom got sick. Not the actual sickness, but the time we were in Las Vegas and she fell. We were upstairs....I don't remember what hotel it was now, but I remember what it looks life. We were upstairs with Uncle Don for his coin show. There were ugly bright green carpets with palm leaves and bold, tropical flowers, that you only see in Vegas. She fell, and everyone began going in slow motion. Paramedics came, and I was confused. Uncle Don was with me because my dad was busy with my mom. He was telling me it would be okay. I remember when Uncle Don died. I was still a kid, but when he died my only memory of him was from that time in Vegas with my mom. I remember happy things too. I remember Disneyland when I was eleven. And Seaworld. And all the trips to the Honolulu zoo as a child with my parents. I remember when my parents got divorced. That's not a happy memory, but there are some funny parts with it. I remember when my dad first moved out into the apartment and I went with him. I remember my little bedroom that had my own bathroom. We would watch 50 Cent rapping "In Da Club" every morning on MTV with breakfast before we went to school. We would throw fruit across the long living room almost every night, occasionally smashing an apple or orange. We would throw socks up and get them stuck on the fan and whoever got the most stuck would win. I don't know if he would like me broadcasting this story. I remember the snow. All the snow days, and when I was really little before the divorce, how my dad and I would go outside and play in it for hours. My mom would be inside and would bundle me up and my dad would only wear his jeans and his woolly hat. We would play for hours then come inside and my mom would yell at us for being out too long that we were both going to get sick. We would laugh and then probably do something else she didn't like. No wonder they got divorced huh?