Third Grade Memoir 

I am a raindrop carried by the ocean and 

my mom smells like coffee with sugar which 

only smells good. I drink the creamer 

pods from the ceramic bowl at breakfast

which my brother makes a face at and then I am 

eclipsed by rage and screaming so loud all I hear

is blood rushing to my ears. (This is how I 

know it’s loud enough). At home, I throw things

around and have to sit in my room for 30 minutes

which really means two episodes of Spongebob

which is a smarter way to measure time than 

minutes. I want people to see me dance and 

hear me sing and do both without thinking. I am 

excellent at reading and four square and don’t know

what pretty is yet so this is enough to love me for.

I can’t walk from the classroom to the front gate

alone because those 20 yards of concrete

will spur hot tears and panic like I’m lost under 

a thunderstorm. I am bad at lying, so I must be 

good at honesty. And the world is small and slow.

Mom taught me to spin then stare at the sky on my back

so the earth turns. It's turning anyway, I know that too.

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