willow

by | Apr 22, 2017

 

Spring means the wlllows in the park are

starting to weep. I stop

and look up and let nostalgia settle on me.

I remember things.

I remember reading my mom to sleep at night.

Wednesdays we ate pork chops and au gratin potatoes.

Summer trips to the lake, we’d stay in a little cabin

on the shore of some giant lake and my dad would

show me how to find animal shapes in the passing clouds.

I remember running home from school in the rain,

drinking straight from the spigot

and stealing rhubarb from the neighbor’s garden.

I remember coming home crying

after spending hours looking for my lost cat.

And how my mom stood in the doorway laughing

because the cat was following behind me.

I remember banana seats and metal lunchboxes

and a hand-knitted yellow vest with a huge ladybug on the front.

I remember sneaking marshmallows from the pantry and

brandy slushes from the freezer.

I remember standing in the backyard, arms outstretched

waiting for birds to come land on me and tell me

the secret to flying.

I remember twirling under the long feathery branches of a willow tree.

 

 

Copyright Cynthia Berg 2017

4 Comments

  1. laurie

    Cynthia, I am so happy to see this. I love the photo, and I adore the reverie – these simple, beautiful memories of childhood. These are yours, but they evoke mine. You wrote them so simply, so lovingly. Thank you!

    Reply
    • Cyn

      I’m so happy to return the favor – as your writing has inspired me over the years. 🙂 What a lucky girl I am to have you as a teacher and mentor. xoxo

      Reply
  2. Tina

    Cyn, this is just lovely! Thank you for your willingness (and modeling) to put it out there.
    ~ tc

    Reply
    • Cyn

      Thank you so much, my friend. I look forward to all you create as well. xoxo

      Reply

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