Reading Day 6
Measure - How do we measure up?ES #lyricalessay, #memory, #growing, #mybody
In the kitchen of the house where we grew up there is a white wall, dividing the dining room from the stove, sink, and microwave. This wall, like all the walls, is painted glossy white, with thick emulsion paint; protected from oil splatters, spraying from greasy pans. Nothing was ever hung on any of our walls. No paintings. No photographs. No memories. We were always ready to move. Onto the next place, and into the next country. We would never have to repaint. But this white wall became our mural. A thin strip of unchanged space, somehow stuck in time, slowly greying, covered in small pencil lines and numbers. Dates. 11/02/2003. 20/04/2007. 30/05/2012. The last date; the year I stopped growing. We’d stand with our heels touching the base of this wall, barefoot and cold as our feet stroked the wooden floor panels. We’d straighten our backs, correct our postures, and wait patiently for the heavy recipe book to be placed upon our heads. I’d look up and ask my mother; ‘how do I measure up this year?’. ‘Just one centimetre taller than the last’, she’d reply. This kitchen became the home of measure. Our yearly ritual to track our progress, and our time spent growing. Now when I gaze upon the surface of that wall, and it’s smudged numbers, I wonder, did it hurt as my body stretched itself, bones elongating and muscles strengthening, in time with others my age. In time with myself. These measurements, the lengths between the pencil lines, became the stand-ins for our physical development, snapshots of a growing process neither our minds, nor bodies will ever remember.
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