Sunday, July 24, 2011

Childhood

My childhood was made of nightlights
of my bedroom door flush against the wall
of pickles wrapped in aluminum foil
of long car rides at night sitting in my booster seat
of catching fireflies on hot summer nights
of listening to my Mema's ghost stories
of catching mice in butter bowls
of trying to run away into the night
of wasp stings and chigger bites
of my Nanny singing "The ants go marching" as we fell asleep
of climbing into my parent's bed during a storm
of my father assuring me that no monsters were in my closet
of my little brother saying there were

My childhood was made up of scraped knees and band aids
of bowls of water set out for stray dogs
of easily made friends
of playing army men
of believing in wishes
of breathing in salt air
of pretending I could be anything
of sack lunches with my name written on them
of never doubting my friends
of never worrying about anything besides when Mema would visit again
of the smell of Granddaddy's fire place
of dangling my feet from the edge of the dock
of moths fluttering around the porch light
of realizing how small we are when I looked at the stars
of sharing a room with my brother
of never looking at the ground as I walked
of feeling like I fit in
of finding pictures in the clouds

My childhood was made up of all of these things and sometimes I wonder exactly when I grew up.

~Sara


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