Childhood Memories: A Series

Childhood Memories: A Series

Playing Football in the Street

The hard thwack
Of worn out pigskin,
Cradled in our hands.
A guttural yell,
Tackle.
I remember sitting on the trunk
Of my dad’s car,
Keeping score in my head
But mostly just cheering.
The exclamation of “car!” would send us scrambling,
Only to reassemble in seconds and keep on playing
Until dusk fell down upon our shoulders,
And suddenly watchful parents called us home
From open doors and windows.
One more pass,
And then goodbye
Time for homework, dinner, sleep –
Until tomorrow’s game.


Slip N Slide

One hot sticky summer
My mother bought us a Slip N Slide,
Which turned out to be a bad idea.
She couldn’t tear us away from it.
Long days spent running around
Clad in just our bathing suits,
Ignoring the cries of bedtime from our parents.
We slid with such force that only the grass could stop us.
One night we stayed out in the rain,
Fully clothed, twirling,
Holding each other’s hands
And just feeling alive.


Losing My Innocence

I was 11 or 12.
We watched the Backstreet Boys on TV,
Kissing the screen where our favorites stood.
You told me about “grown up things”
Like kissing and boys and sex,
And we laughed about it
While singing along to “I Swear”
And pretending to play the piano.
I didn’t know, I didn’t know,
That soon after I would stand in that same bedroom
In the arms of my other best friend,
My next door neighbor,
And feel his lips on mine
And find myself losing my innocence.


Bicycle

Dad – you never taught me
To ride a bicycle.
After my friend lost control
And smashed my training wheels,
I lost interest.
You didn’t push it.
Years later you would push me
Down hills and try to teach.
It was too late.
I never learned.


Marco Island

Piling into the car
On hot sticky Friday afternoons,
Packed in with suitcases
I was excited.
I knew that meant Marco Island
And a weekend getaway from life.
Marco Island.
Driving over the bridge,
Searching for the familiar sights
Of lit up angels at Christmastime
And the majestic welcome sign.
Sleeping in the living room of our condo,
Running down the walkway to the pool,
To watch the elderly lady
Who swam each day with an empty water jug
Clutched in her hand.
That pool where I lurched and dove,
Where I learned to swim
And swatted away horseflies.
The movie theater where we sat at high tables
And munched on nachos.
The little shop where I bought various trinkets,
And the lady behind the counter knew my name
And pointed out the latest Sanrio items.
I stayed out on the beach day after day,
My hair turning gold from the sun.
In that small town where every shopkeeper knew and loved me,
Where the restaurants knew exactly what your “usual” was,
And we bought every beanie baby around back then in 1 day.
Life was slow and gorgeous,
Rolling on like the green-blue waves
Breaking against the bow of the boat we rented,
Ducking our heads under low bridges.
When big adventure was running to storage
And being able to unlock the door by myself,
When love was falling asleep in the car
With my head on your shoulder
And sharing sweet sticky popsicles
In the summer heat.
We sat at the bar at Snook Inn
And listened to the guitarists play.
Marco Island.


Fishing

Remember when –
We fished off of Marco with our fathers?
We caught, and caught, and caught
Fish with open flapping mouth,
Huge heavy catfish flopping on the deck.
You and I, two best friends,
We brought in 10, 15, more!
And our fathers caught nothing
All the hours we drifted.
We threw every fish back.


Fish Hook

You swung the pole,
The line a perfect arch
Flying out behind you.
A flick of the wrist,
You casted it forward
But it never hit the water.
Instead, I watched in horror
Slow motion,
As it flew forward
And stuck in the back of your neck.
You didn’t notice in time,
Pulling it forward with the momentum.
It ripped a clean gash.
I’ll never forget how silent you were,
Or how loud your mother screamed.