When I was younger, one of my uncles told me that the thunder in a rainstorm was just God moving his furniture about in heaven. But, I don't think that's what thunder really is. My Uncle was probably just trying to get my little two-year-old self to go to sleep and stop complaining about missing my parents.
I still remember the peppermint smell of his house when he told me that. But, I don't remember the missing my mother and father part. My uncle reminds me about how badly I missed my parents every time he comes to visit, but I still don't remember any of it.
It's sort of funny how memories work. It's strange how everybody remembers something different about the same incident. Like that same weekend Lorina and I stayed at our uncle's house while our parents were out of town. Lorina remembers more about that weekend then I do. She could name the color of the shirt my uncle was wearing; the color of the carpet in his parlor room; and most of the things I said when I was crying because of the thunderstorm.
My uncle can remember everything I cried about that weekend; what we ate for every meal that weekend; how tall Lorina and I were; what time I actually fell asleep; and how much the thunderstorm really scared me. In a way it's kind of annoying how much my uncle likes to retell this story of our weekend visit. It's probably the only story my uncle has to tell others about me, because I've never heard him tell any other story with me in it before.
Now, the things I remember about that weekend visit are very few. I remember the thunderstorm, and my uncle telling that God was just moving around furniture. But I don't remember crying and staying up late because of the thunder. I remember my parents not being at my uncle's house, but I don't remember crying because I missed them. I remember the smell of peppermints in his house, and the funny looking mustache my uncle had at the time. But I don't really remember anything else.
It's weird how I can't really remember a weekend trip I had when I was younger, but I can remember everything that happened for the few hours I was in Wonderland. When I think back on Wonderland, I still can see all the gleaming white teeth of the Cheshire Cat, I can still hear the anger in the red queen's voice, when she demanded I lose my head, I can still feel that twisting strange feeling my body felt every time it changed size, and I can remember how all those strange cakes tasted.
I don't know why I can re-collect thoughts of Wonderland so well, when I can forget some of the things that happened just the day before. I don't understand the whole concept of memory, and I doubt I ever will. There are just too many unanswered questions, for anybody to have an answer on what memory really is.
Questions like, why do some parts of memories get forgotten and others don't? Why does everybody remember something different about the exact same thing? And how does seeing something remind one of another memory?
If a thunderstorm wasn't going on right now, I doubt that I would be recalling that weekend trip with my uncle. The thunderstorm just made me think of my uncle telling me that thunder is just God moving around furniture. So, it would make sense for me to remember these words because a thunderstorm is going on.
I still dislike thunderstorms. I wish I could go outside. I would be able to avoid mother and father better if I was outside. So far, I have failed miserably at playing the avoiding game. I already ran into father, but lucky for me, he didn't ask about Lorina being cheerfully out of character. I'm afraid that if I run into father again, I will end up spilling the beans about Lorina's engagement to Samuel.
This avoiding game would be a lot easier if it wasn't raining, or if the maid just let me stay in her room with her. The maid had me leave her room after I read her the letter. She told me to go away because she was going to say a few words she didn't want me repeating. I wish she had let me stay with her. Sitting in the maid's room would be a lot easier then walking around the house hoping mother and father don't find me to ask questions.
A/N
I find it funny how this story can have quite a few favorites, but none of those favorites are reviewing this story. I'm not telling y'all to review, I'm just saying.
But if you do actually decide to review for once, please tell my Beta Reader that she's awesome.
. . .
B/N
Do not be ashamed my fellow enjoyers-of-this-story. I have over 280 favorite stories on FictionPress and I've reviewed less than one third of them. That feeling of "putting yourself out there" never fails to give me the willies. But I wouldn't mind hearing how awesome I am. *Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge.* Nah, I'm just joshin' you. Instead say how awesome the story is. *laughs evilly*
On another note: Did not the intro to this chapter put you in mind of the song 'Only Exception' by Paramore?
As for Alice wanting to stay in the maid's room . . . well I think she just wanted to learn a few ripe words. I mean seriously, who would subject themselves to the maid's presence like that without an ulterior motive?