I’m still mulling over all the memories of my childhood that the wash day story dug up from the dusty corners of my mind. My memories range from happy and innocent to dark and terrifying. Mostly I shy away from the more painful memories and pull up the pleasant, like my version of wash day I posted last week. Painful memories have a place and next week I will post about that but for this week another poem; one about some of my happier memories.
This poem was first published in the 2013 Mind’s Eye; the student literary magazine of Johnson County Community College.
When I was Young When I was young, I had to choose, dress up and stay in the house or run barefoot through the fields, wild and free as rain, through field after field -- barking dogs to bouncing rabbits to wild wind and clouds -- through tall grass and weeds cows startled and stared at our passing, sometimes deer, dogs jumping and tumbling, trailing after, following then leading falling into a heap under a tree, bodies flopping, tongues lolling, tails wagging in rhythm, opened book in hand, one page or ten read, words blurred by lacy patterns of leaves, of shade and sun instead, then off again to nowhere in particular. Or somewhere, hunting treasure beyond the next meadow and finding it in the sun and wind and the sheer joy of life. I tried to dress and act like a lady but dishes and dolls and conversation cannot compare to wind and rain and the joy of a pack of dogs and a half wild girl running, released into the long days of summer, blowing with the wind, following the sun across the sky, almost catching it. Sometimes I'd stop and stare at the house, thinking of my sister seeing a shadow as she walked across a room, wondering at a different world sheltered within the walls, but never voluntarily returning to the captivity of the house, rather dreaming of forever, free and wild. But now, I find somehow I have become the one in the house, locked away from the wind and the rain and the sheer joy of being alive, old, yet still the half wild girl whispers to me and I remember.
I wish I had photos of my fur babies when I was a kid but unfortunately I do not so these are stock photos of how I remember my pups. I had a difficult childhood in some aspects but there is nothing like the love of a dog to soothe the wounds of life.
We always had several dogs that would find their way to us and join our pack. They were a motley crew, each a distinct personality, mostly strays and throw-aways, each with a special place in my heart. I don’t remember most of their names but I do remember what a gift they were to a lonely girl.
Blue Connotations 