Reconstruction Memory // That Warm Smile

My face felt blushed, overwhelmed. My visions were blurry, not because I was nauseous and afraid, it was because it was harder for me to see through the thin film of water. There was a warm hand on my back, rubbing against my spine. It was harder for me to breathe.

“It’s okay. This is almost over. Come here, I wanna hug you.”

“Thanks, I really need this,” I told Jessica, as I wrapped my arms around and squeezed her close.

As I stood, the ground became colder and malevolent that it sent chills down my spine. Then comes a figure walking towards me.

Bubbles, the code name I used for him. Light, full of joy, yet delicate. So fragile that it makes me sad to see him fade away. He walked to me with a smile, the same smile that I haven’t seen in so long.

We were together hanging out by a riverfront. It was cold that day, the middle of winter. It was also our first time doing something together. As we were both nervous walking with one another, he broke the atmosphere of tension with small talk. Small conversations turned into discussions. We talked all day about life in general, favorite foods, school drama, best music, and more. It felt endless. I didn’t feel as cold anymore. The sun was setting and created Golden Hour. The hour that sprayed the sky with bright yellow before it melts into deep red of the sun. “Hey, let’s get something warm to drink before we leave,” said Bubbles. There it is again, another smile. Warm and comfortable in my heart but I couldn’t keep eye contact with him. It was that friendship that held me up to this day.

“I’m fine. Thank you for checking in on me.” I said as I looked over Jessica’s shoulder remained hugging.

He shakes his head. “No worries”. It was the smile he gave that countered the daunting emotions I was going through. To be honest, the connection of friendship felt like a cure. A cure that helped my emotions become faded.

Artist Statement: “That Warm Smile” was inspired by a deep thought of something simple to someone but is such a huge deal to me personally. Atwood’s style of writing helped me build a short essay through other words and context that supported a stronger memory. The characters in both novels thought deeply into a memory but sorted out the details. Kesey’s style of writing also springed out what is memory and how we can be more descriptive with a memory that can be hard to remember.