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Farewell, better times
A corner lot with a white metal fence
Giant oak tree in the front yard, whose acorns waged countless wars against trashcan lids
protecting juvenile skulls
A garage, windowless and battered by professional sports dreams and bugs under magnifying glasses
Wraparound porch, a front door rarely used but for stormy nights
Lightning makes day out of night while listening to Mother Nature’s song for the ages
summer rain on a rooftop
The backyard; full of calf-high holes and dogshit
A black maple where once a treehouse stood
and a tire swing swung
A fort built by three generations of men, with a slide known for destroying the unsuspecting
Inside a kitchen with piles of mail on the island
A junk drawer where dreams were hidden, forgotten, and rediscovered
Two food bowls on the floor
companions we didn’t deserve,
but had the privilege of knowing.
Bedrooms, most beds broken from jumping
A sister walled up in her room, only to emerge unwillingly
Another whose room, a refuge for advice and warmth the former couldn’t muster
A brother, younger, a room full of memories
Fighting after church, playing spaceships and martial arts masters
Counting the shadows on the walls as we talked ourselves to sleep
Every creak, a sign you’re not alone
Tires on asphalt,
the smell of dinner
The warm, summer air on your face through the open window at the head of your bed
Loving calls of freight trains
always in the early morning
Saying goodbye to childhood was too simple
-American writer
