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Do You Remember Fireball Roberts? Sometimes we connect; unexpected moments of touching. I think you never remember the pain of a young girl who knew. I remember. I still know. My own mother looked away. We sit quiet today. Too much has happened for discussions. I am seeing a day in my twelfth year. It was a Thursday in July. Nineteen, sixty-four. I had written something just for you, Mama. You put it aside. Read later. Unread, it sat. I threw it crumbled into the fireplace a week later. I remember. It was the same day that race car driver died. Who was he? A dangerous name, an explosive ending. Oh well. Leave it. We are what we are. Today, memories can sit quiet. Neither of us has spoken; I wonder where your thoughts are walking. You stir suddenly and look me square. You speak slowly, with an unsure voice; 'Do you remember Fireball Roberts?' We connect. Somewhere, in the shadows of my past, A twelve year old girl has been seen, forty-two years later. Shirley AlexanderReturn to Backward Glances
© 2008
