I Remember

_{Photo by Natalia Lee}

By Natalia Lee

I remember when I didn’t see them.

I remember when I did.

I remember days sitting on my aunt’s bed as she blow dried my hair, staring into the eyes of a young girl hiding in her closet.

After a while, I asked her to keep the closet doors open 

because sometimes she was scary to look at.

I remember calling out into the dark,

I know you’re there.

I remember dancing in my living room to a music video I had seen too many times.

I remember turning around and seeing a red haired boy standing right behind me, smiling.

Then vanishing 

as if a figment of my imagination.

I remember hiding under my covers as they tickled my legs and pulled on my sheets as if it were a game.

I remember being scared.

I don’t remember when I stopped seeing them as much.

I think during those times there was too much happening for me to notice.

I remember getting older.

I remember forgetting the realms beyond this one for a while;

and I remember 

when I remembered them again.

Sometimes I can feel when they’re there.

I spent a lot of my childhood blocking them out that I wouldn’t be surprised if I never saw one again.

But sometimes I do.

I can almost hear them chanting,

Remember, remember.