|
I was sitting in my back yard and a smell in the air triggered this memory... |
|
Back On Durrett Lane
I remember the greening of my youth.
All was ripe as red on the
apple.
It was new.
All of it.
Everything.
Everyday.
Grapes on the vine were there for the taking.
I took
them all, because I could and no one saw.
Paths to me were a mystery.
I chose all recklessly.
None were too windy
nor wrong.
All led me somewhere new, and I liked that.
A bed of clover was soft, unlike my pillow but just as comforting.
Catching
sunbeams through the leaves was a game of skill.
Each having their own name and assigment on the ground.
I would wonder,
if a beam hit just right on that bare spot, would grass grow there?
I would swing with butterflies perched on my shoulders.
I
gave them a much needed breeze on those August afternoons.
When they flew away...I missed them.
All was hurry up and
do.
That is until night fall.
The world would change as did I.
Dark enveloped the Earth.
The flannel blanket tied
between two trees.
My tent.
Honeysuckle filled the evening air.
Giving mind to Mother's perfume.
The sound of
locust...whippoorwills...LOCUST!
My quest for the morning, but I will ponder on that in the tommorrow.
Tonight I catch
lighting bugs in a jar.
Light for my make-shift tent.
On safari as the quarter moon peeks through the limbs, with lighting
bug jar in hand,
I pull the little red wagon across the Serengetti.
Looking for anything that moves, to capture and
make the evening's trophy.
My dog Sheila, became Sheena, the lioness.
My faithful guide and tracker.
Together we
could concur anything, fearless in our deeds.
One more sentry through the jungle.
Exhausted from the hunt, we lay together
paw in hand and discuss the nights rewards.
All is cool, breezy, quiet as the sun peaks beneath the blanket.
We spread
it on the ground, ever so neatly.
Our table for the watermelon breakfast.
Watermelon just for me, Sheila and the soldiers
we found on the trees.
And...we line them up in battle.
Looking at the ripened rhubarb.
Just another day...
Back
on Durrett Lane.
|
Tent Mar-di Gras
Up in a flash, from empty to all the colors
all at once.
Bright as Mar-di Gras, sleek in their arrival.
Hammocks swinging, cocoon children inside laughing
and dogs with bearded men on bikes,
like their counter parts they growl as to scare
away
intruders.
Ropes in every spectrum, stung from tree to tree
tell the story of who they are, where they've been
and who gets the the beach towel prime spot to
dry
before morning.
The sun sneaks away and the lights come on.
Mar-di Gras arrives and it is as loud as a
Janis Joplin concert sitting in the front row
until Sunday.
It lifts me up and leaves me in the no zone
and I sit quietly to watch,
until the dawn comes embarrassing the colors,
then they break it down.
|
 |
Growing Pains
I found growing up,that life would never live up to my expectations.
I spent my autumns
donning little plaid jumpers and pat-n-leather shoes,waiting anxiously for my new schools books.
My teacher would warn
me not to read them all at once.
I never listened.
I would hurry home to do my chores
and then I would read one
book every night,
until I had them done.
I felt it made me smarter than the other kids.
I was one step ahead,
always.
I
thought if I knew all the books,
I wouldn’t have to go to school all the time.
This was not the case.
My mother
saw to that.
Halloween was my favorite holiday.
I could be anything I wanted to be and get by with it.
One particular
year when I was 9,I put a pair of black tights on my head,twisted the legs to form a pony tail. (I loved black hair)
I
wrapped a sheet around and around my self,
tied it with a piece of leather,
used my sister’s makeup to make me
darker,
and suddenly,I was an Indian Princess!
I believed this would get me more candy,for I was not scary like the
other kids.
After returning home with my loot,I found this not to be the case.
My brother was a pirate,and he had just
as much,
if not more candy than I did.
Thanksgiving would come andgo.
I never gave much mind to it.
Days of cooking, baking, cleaning, shining and rearranging the entire house,for a 15
minute pig out,made no sense to me.
All I wanted was a turkey leg.
I watched all the old uncles eat,until there was
nothing left
but the skeleton of what used to be a very large bird.
The old uncles would light cigars, burp and the
go to sleep.
It was then time for the wishbone.
My brother and I always had the privilege of the pull.
I felt I would
be rich and famous with my end, but that was not the case.
I always got the short end of the stick.
Christmas was
a magical time,full of wonder and excitement.
I would spend hours searching the toy section of the Sears and Roebucks catalog.
I
would pick the best toy I could find and began my heartfelt letter to Santa Claus.
I just knew in my last year of believing,
I would get just what I wanted.
I had covered up the bad things I had done that year.
For I knew how to sugar-coat a
letter now, I was older.
When Christmas morning arrived and I opened up my presents, I found my previous notion, was not
the case.
Just another plaid jumper and pat-n-leather shoes.
With spring, came Easter and my fancy dress (not plaid)
with ruffles and ribbons.
The itchy, scratchy slip and the white tights, I was supposed to keep clean.
After church
we would go to the basement, while Mother hid the eggs in the yard.
With baskets in hand, we zipped thru the yard, to find
the prize egg.
I just new I would find the egg that would win me the big chocolate bunny.
The one I had no intentions
of sharing with my siblings.
I found this not to be the case.
I fell into the mud after that egg and my prize was a
scolding for muddying my tights.
Finally Summer!
School was out and I was free to do all the things I had dreamt
of all winter!
I will camp in the backyard!
I will go on safari in the woods!
I will roll down the hills at Durrett
High!
I will sit in the apricot tree and eat all the apricots before my brother!
I Will Not Wear Plaid!
I found this
not to be the case as I heard those horrifying words;
Vacation Bible School.
Two weeks of pure torture making things
from plaster even I couldn’t recognize.
Wearing plaid dresses with pat-n-leather shoes and the only good thing about
it that I can recall, was the Kool-Aid and Cookies!
Damn it anyway.
How To Live A peaceful Life
Never tell stories,
they will come back to haunt you.
Never tell the quiet ones,
they will talk eventually.
Never spread rumors,
someday you may be the butter.
Keep your mouth shut,
your eyes open!
Enemies are everywhere!
Most important...
Never let anyone,
I mean anyone,
Close
enough to see
who you really are!
Just imagine the stories they will tell.
|
