Reconstruction of Memory - Kaitlyn Petroski

Posted by Kaitlyn Petroski-Rimmer in College English · Pahomov/Rhymer · C Band on Sunday, December 16, 2018 at 8:50 pm

I pull up to a stop light, looking to my left, I notice my old middle school. The sight of the building floods me with memories. Most people think fondly of when they were just children with no responsibilities, with no care in the world. I don’t. I wasn’t a particularly happy kid, but it was at its worst in middle school. There aren’t many good memories, but some were livable.

Walking through the hallway was a dangerous game, there was always someone there to make it more difficult than necessary. I don’t remember much of this day, but I was walking back from art class, holding a folder of drawings. A foot stuck out, the folder went flying, and I went down. I couldn’t tell who did it. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe what happened.

I looked up and saw someone looking at me, he wasn’t laughing, just looking. What was his name? It hit me that a popular kid just saw me trip. I shielded my face and looked down, refusing to lift my eyes. I figured if I can’t see him, he can’t see me, right?

A pair of shoes stepped into my view and the person attached to them crouched down to gather my papers. When I finally looked up, he smiled at me and held out a hand to help me up. That had never happened to me before. I was the disposable kid. When someone saw me fall they just kept walking, but not him.

I’m sure he doesn’t remember that day, he probably doesn't remember me at all and that’s okay. That was the happiest I felt that whole year, just the simple fact that someone else noticed. The small moment of kindness defines him in my mind, thinking back about it, I realize that everybody has a different version of you in their mind. Even though I didn’t think anybody cared back then, I know know that at least one person did, even if it was just for a moment.

A honking horn behind me pulls me out of my thoughts and I start driving again.

Author's Note

In my reconstruction of memory I tried to emulate the writing styles and techniques of Margaret Atwood and Ken Kesey. Atwood’s tendency to distance the character from the events and illustrate an apathy in the character, while establishing the character’s emotional attachment is something that I really tried to focus on in this piece. In One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, Kesey utilizes the narrator’s skewed view of the world to tell the story, I tried to incorporate this by showing the missing details in my character’s memory.

Comments (5)

Ariana Flores

This was a great piece! The flow was amazing, and the tone stayed consistent. The ending made me wonder whether the girl was obsessed with this popular boy that helped her. I was also curious about the characters' family. Did they support them? Bully them, too? Not around?

Sarah Berg

You definitely were able to create the emotional distance from the narrator to the memory that Atwood did. I think this was a unique and difficult aspect to decide to emulate as well. The matter of fact manner in which the narrator describes the event shows the time passage and growth since it happened. I am also wondering more about the character's background. How does their personality and experience in life at the time they are remembering compare to what it was when they were in middle school?

Tylier Driscoll

From the what the author's note attempts to accomplish I feel like the scene of memory did succeed because there are multiple examples where the narrator can't remember their experiences that makes the piece foggy for the narrator.
I'm still wondering how often was it that the narrator was bullied and I want to know where the narrator is standing in the present in relation to the bullies.

Brendan Hall

I thought that the content really makes this interesting. I say this because many people tend to overdo nostalgia and unintentionally end up lying to themselves.

Matthew Milligan

Awesome piece! I think you did well job of creating that distance you were aiming for. I think having the narrator ask themselves/the reader questions is a good way of doing that. I am curious as to why your character feels so alone/why nobody talks to them. Is there a reason? Or is it just the character's own perception?