I call it my memory cash.

“Penny for your thoughts?” my father asks while gently placing his face in front of mine. We look at one another, knowingly.

MEMORY CASH BY KIM KOLARICH 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 02

I sit motionless with my eyes closedand my fingertips pressed against my chest. When I feel a thump, I whisper, “I heard them!”

“Penny for your thoughts?” my father asks while gently placing his face in front of mine. We look at one another, knowingly.

“My teacher told me I have organs inside of me and I just heard them play their music,” I say to him as fast as I can. We’ve played this game so many times before and my arms shake from my laughter while I raise my cupped hands up to him. He searches his pockets in exaggerated animation until he finally finds a penny to drop into my hands. I call it my memory cash.