NaPoWriMo day 10: without a prompt.
Nostalgia. Reminiscence. As we age, these words come into play. And sometimes, like me, you go back to revisit your childhood haunts.
They warned me
but I still tried to moonwalk.
You remember that smooth
walking backwards to Billie Jean?
This time, I glide back
for a one day return to where I began.
The house at 144 is there. Paint peeling,
flecks of grey-white decorate the yard.
Rusted poles, frayed clothes line
bereft of flapping sheets.
I meander down a one-way
and circle back searching
for the corner shop. Marble topped
counter with stools where we perched
to share chocolate or cherry cokes
and carefree cheerleader talk –
now your friendly neighborhood
hardware store. Without those silver
keys to tighten clamp-on skates and
rush down Washington Street so fast
we didn’t need my brother’s Radio Flyer.
Next door sits a Dunkin’, eclairs filled
with counterfeit custard. Past blurred
in the too-large magnifying glass
of my mind’s eye. The moonwalk was
and still is, well beyond my grasp.
lillian the home poet 
I always return to the first house, I remember at 10736-65 Ave. It amazes me that a family of eight could have lived in that little house. Well written Lillian!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I really did make this drive through my old home town — about two years ago. I have the inside of the house in my mind’s eye. Trips back make you understand the old adage “you can’t step in the same river twice.” What didn’t make the poem was the visit to my old church — I remember it as being huge! Complete with a cave like grotto side altar. I was shocked to walk in and find the “grotto” made out of synthetic rock and a small church …. kind of like Lily Tomlin dressed up as a Edith sitting in the huge rocking chair 🙂 Little girl memories are often oversized. We knew a family of 10 children and I couldn’t believe how they all lived in their house — I remember having dinner with them one night and it was frenetic! How was dinner at your house back then? 🙂
lillian
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dinner was repetitive. With eight people it had to be performed in such a manner to keep up with a mother run off her feet. Being a mom of six kids was a lot of work. I am not sure how she did it. The kids just went with the flow of being kids. :o)
LikeLiked by 1 person