Logically I know these moments are fleeting. Sometimes I feel it. And sometimes I feel like I'm doing good just to get their faces washed and teeth brushed.
All tagged childhood
Birdhouses
I watch my mother painting birdhouses. These are not the simple, made in your garage or woodshop variety.
Grasshopper
Several feet away on the seawall, in the path of the oncoming tide, sat a bright green grasshopper
Evergreen
A false evergreen, plastic fake, colored lights popping in and out of existence. The ornaments of my childhood caught, exposed
The Last Time
The ship is a floating city. It's cliché but how else to describe the huge, the monstrous gray building suspended on the water?
South
But in South Carolina the plants were neon, the color deep, as if a cut leaf could be used as a marker, as if their pigment might transfer easily to paper.
Field at Dusk
I stand at the edge of the field, toes curled in stained tennis shoes, nails bitten to the quick.
On My Mother's Birthday
My mother is a pair of hands first; a blurred figure, a face I tilt my neck back to see. The flash of a smile, a pair of arms that reach around me and lift.
Drivers Ed
I waited for an opening, blinker on, foot easing down on the gas. I took the first opportunity and the speedometer began to climb.
Dead Fish
My three year old brother explored the beach, armed with his red plastic pail and a little yellow shovel: the tools of all children taken to the seashore for a day.