Nebulous
Uncertain
His mother was thinner than he remembered, her hair grayer and her face more lined. All because of him, he was sure. Sam watched as his mother bustled around the kitchen, chattering excitedly about the things he had missed as she prepared what could only be described as a feast.
He wasn’t really listening though. He had lost six months of his life. He didn’t want to hear about it. He wanted to know where he had been, what had happened in that missing time.
Everyone was just so glad for him to be home, to be alive. They accepted the fact that he didn’t remember anything, but it wasn’t that easy for him. He found himself trying to remember.
He thought back to the last thing he had remembered—laying in bed with Naomi, watching TV. What had they been watching? The news, the memory coming to him.
“Reports of strange lights appearing in the night sky all over the world have been coming in,” the news anchor had said. “The source of these lights has yet to be determined.”
He remembered Naomi hopping out of bed and going to their bedroom window, pulling the curtain to the side to look outside.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I think I see them!”
He had watched her, curious now. He had climbed out of bed to join her at the window and could just barely make out a light in the sky that had nothing to do with stars.
“It’s hard to see it,” he said. She had turned, heading across the room.
“I’m going to go outside and see if I can get a better view,” she said, leaving the room with a smile in his direction.
And that’s the last he could remember. The news, Naomi, the lights in the sky.
“Hey, did they ever figure out what those lights were?” Sam suddenly asked, interrupting whatever story his mother had been telling him.
“What lights, sweetie?” she asked, turning to stare at him.
“The last thing I remember was watching the news and they were talking about there being strange lights in the sky,” he answered. “They didn’t know where they were coming from.”
“I don’t remember anything about that,” she said, turning back to the food on the stove. Sam watched her, thinking hard about that night. Was he sure their were lights?
“Maybe I’m just misremembering,” he said.
“I’m sure it’ll eventually come back to you,” his mother said. “But don’t push it. All that matters is that you’re back and you’re ok.”
He nodded his head, not really listening anymore. Would he ever get those memories back? The last 6 months were just a blank void, in his mind. Just gone.
His mother was probably right. He’d just have to give it more time.
His father came into the room then, smiling at the two of them.
“What are you two going on about in here?” he asked. His father had also changed in the last few months. He had lost more hair and unlike Sam’s mother, he had gained weight. He imagined his mother spending most of her time cooking as a distraction.
“Sam thought he remembered something about the night he disappeared,” she said, turning from the stove to smile at him. “Something about some lights.”
“Lights?”
“I think I just got something mixed up,” Sam answered, looking down at the table, his hands occupied with tearing up a napkin.
“Well, don’t stress too much about it, son,” his father said. “We’re just glad you’re back and safe.”
Later, he couldn’t get the memory of the lights out of his mind. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that he wasn’t remembering correctly, he couldn’t shake the idea that these lights were important.
He wasn’t really listening though. He had lost six months of his life. He didn’t want to hear about it. He wanted to know where he had been, what had happened in that missing time.
Everyone was just so glad for him to be home, to be alive. They accepted the fact that he didn’t remember anything, but it wasn’t that easy for him. He found himself trying to remember.
He thought back to the last thing he had remembered—laying in bed with Naomi, watching TV. What had they been watching? The news, the memory coming to him.
“Reports of strange lights appearing in the night sky all over the world have been coming in,” the news anchor had said. “The source of these lights has yet to be determined.”
He remembered Naomi hopping out of bed and going to their bedroom window, pulling the curtain to the side to look outside.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I think I see them!”
He had watched her, curious now. He had climbed out of bed to join her at the window and could just barely make out a light in the sky that had nothing to do with stars.
“It’s hard to see it,” he said. She had turned, heading across the room.
“I’m going to go outside and see if I can get a better view,” she said, leaving the room with a smile in his direction.
And that’s the last he could remember. The news, Naomi, the lights in the sky.
“Hey, did they ever figure out what those lights were?” Sam suddenly asked, interrupting whatever story his mother had been telling him.
“What lights, sweetie?” she asked, turning to stare at him.
“The last thing I remember was watching the news and they were talking about there being strange lights in the sky,” he answered. “They didn’t know where they were coming from.”
“I don’t remember anything about that,” she said, turning back to the food on the stove. Sam watched her, thinking hard about that night. Was he sure their were lights?
“Maybe I’m just misremembering,” he said.
“I’m sure it’ll eventually come back to you,” his mother said. “But don’t push it. All that matters is that you’re back and you’re ok.”
He nodded his head, not really listening anymore. Would he ever get those memories back? The last 6 months were just a blank void, in his mind. Just gone.
His mother was probably right. He’d just have to give it more time.
His father came into the room then, smiling at the two of them.
“What are you two going on about in here?” he asked. His father had also changed in the last few months. He had lost more hair and unlike Sam’s mother, he had gained weight. He imagined his mother spending most of her time cooking as a distraction.
“Sam thought he remembered something about the night he disappeared,” she said, turning from the stove to smile at him. “Something about some lights.”
“Lights?”
“I think I just got something mixed up,” Sam answered, looking down at the table, his hands occupied with tearing up a napkin.
“Well, don’t stress too much about it, son,” his father said. “We’re just glad you’re back and safe.”
Later, he couldn’t get the memory of the lights out of his mind. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that he wasn’t remembering correctly, he couldn’t shake the idea that these lights were important.
