Do You Remember?

by Wendy S. Taylor

Do you remember the sweating days of summer,

when the hot sun did magic to your skin

and made you an Indian?

You had barely escaped from the first grade,

and could hardly even begin to think about the next year

and being a whole grade bigger.

Mom’s marigolds didn’t take it too graciously

when you decided to fall in love with the girl next door

and knew that the purple weeds that grew in the field across the street

just weren’t enough.

There were always candy-bar days and ice-cream days

and days of eating chocolate chip cookies on the swing—

still warm and melty and ohsogood.

You remember now the backyard town that needed no name,

and the treehouse where you spent so many library-book days—

so way up.

One time you got to ride your bike all the way to the drugstore

with $.15 in your pocket that jingled and kept time

to your up-and-down knees the whole way …

and on the way back your mouth was one big sugar-sweet wad

of bright pink bubble gum.

Those were the days

that you walked into the baking kitchen

with stolen strawberry smiles,

thinking mom would never know;

but she always did, and she held you hostage

until you confessed and apologized—

and you laughed when you ran outside

because moms never learn the secret of crossed fingers.

Sprinkler shenanigans that outsmarted the sun,

and trips to the warm green pool

that made your eyes look like roadmaps.

Visits to Grandma and Grandpa’s porch

where Grandma knitted you all kinds of things,

and where you went for rides on Grandpa’s knee,

always hoping that your mount would never tire.

Aladdin’s lamp, King Arthur’s court, beautiful princesses, Tom Sawyer,

and one last glass of water …

and then you slept

and remembered.

Photo by Debby Thiemann

Photo by Robert Kempton