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Those Final Days (A Memoir) (1 Viewer)



Those Final Days
By Mike Hisman

Have you ever been told that your not mature enough? Not old enough to do something that you really wanted; cast out because of the year you were born. I remember, even if it wasn’t that long ago the moment still sits in my head. The thoughts race trough my head as I look though the old pictures on my digital camera. I find one that I barely remember being taken, but the picture reminds me.
A smirk pasted across my face, white eye’s embedded into my head; rolled for all eternity. There are people staring blankly in the background, barely noticeable, below the focus of the picture. A glass of Ice Cream extended above my head, forever frozen in time forever like the Statue of Liberty. The picture has a warm feeling to it and looking into the image brings back fond memories. It was taken in Boston in October of 08. I know that doesn’t seem like that long ago, but to me it feels like an eternity. But I still remember that day well.
We walked into the dimly lit restaurant, and waited for a waitress. We finally had received the attention of a waitress; and apparently the restaurant wasn’t the only thing dimly lit. The entirety it took us to get out meal was almost unbearable among the 70’s and 80’s music blaring in the background; I never want to hear another Phil Collins song again. As we ask for our check, the waitress came back with a mountain of Ice Cream, it was the Mount Everest of Ice Cream sundaes. She had me stand up holding it high above my head in a manner which looked quite ridiculous. Then something awful happened that shamed those who wrote it; the worst rendition of Happy Birthday ever was sang; with people just guessing at my name.
This was the last moment I was considered a child; even as we made our way back to the hotel room, I had more responsibility then before. And now that it’s a few weeks later more responsibility, weather it be from staying home over a long weekend and watching the house, or the time of my curfew. My childhood was lost on the day, like a snake loosing his skin.
I put down the camera with a sigh, unknown if it is a sigh of relief or anguish, as I think of times passed. But I don’t regret growing up, it is inevitable, just one of the things that life has planed from the start. But whenever I need to I think about that day, and become a child; once more.

I guess what I'm really looking for in this is feedback. I'm writing it for a class and I haven't received any negative responses; so anything is helpful.