All of the childhood homes that raised me are almost now sold and gone. She said, “you just slipped right through the cracks.” She wasn’t wrong.
But it doesn’t matter how long it’s been. I still know what roads will lead back to the rooms where I can almost see my younger self in front of me. There may be construction or pavement where gravel used to be or an extra building that didn’t exist before.
No matter what changes, I’ll still see myself riding my bike towards the creek, dancing in the livingroom, video game marathons on the carpet, and singing to movies. I’ll always remember yelling to each other from different rooms, running through the yard, laughing until we could no longer breathe on the trampoline, spending all day in the pool until our skin wrinkled like prunes, and climbing those trees.
Stenographer For My Thoughts 