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