Mémé
Bre Newell
Every time I hear church bells I’m brought back to being six holding my meme’s hand as we walk down the aisle, I would look up to her as she asked me to cross my hands over my chest to be blessed. It’s a bittersweet sound, it brings me back to catholic school but to the nurse office where my meme is sitting up my nebulizer. When I hear the church bells outside my dorm window I think of her, my meme. Lightly the sounds fill my room. I can’t help but to stop and listen to the soft melody.
Every weekend since I've been born, I've stayed over at my Meme and Papa's house. Because of school I haven’t been able to see her every weekend, but sometimes she’ll call me. Sometimes I can’t answer. I kept the voicemail for sentimental value and figured I could use them as a momento in the project.