Soft Carpet Against My Toes

I am standing on my driveway next to my parents and my sister. It is warm outside and I watch as burly, muscular men lift our boxes of all belongings into the truck. My mother leads me around the house one last time. I feel the soft carpet against my toes for the last time. My small bathroom feels large without a shower curtain and decoration coating the walls. The last room we walk into is my bedroom. Out of the two windows I can see all the trees that have grown up with me and that I will no longer be able to lay under, run around, or climb. Even though I am very young, I have a deep understanding that this house is special and holds a lot of memories. I can understand goodbye. Seeing the bloom of the trees reminds me there is still more growth and change to come.

one last look
a once small bathroom
turned large by emptiness

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Goosebumps

This haiku takes me to my childhood. I am sitting in the chair that feels so high off the ground. A big, heavy apron gets laid on top of me, but I don’t mind it because I was a little cold. The dental assistant puts these awkward orange and yellow plastic holders in my mouth with the x-ray film. She tells me to bite down, but I can’t completely because my mouth is so full. Awkwardly sitting there with my mouth half open and drool running down my chin, the dental assistant walks around a wall and hits a button. I look around the room, as well as I can without moving my head, and see colorful paintings on the walls. One wall is covered with a forest themed mural. There are monkeys with big smiles on the wall hanging from trees.

The dental assistant then comes back, readjusts the plastic, and repeats the process. When she returns the next time, she takes the plastic out of my mouth followed by drool. She then takes off the apron, and I suddenly get a little chilly again. The dental assistant sends me back to where my mom waits patiently besides the dentist’s chair. I climb into the chair and stare out the window. The wind blows hard outside, and the grass sways in the wind. Not long after sitting down, the hygienist walks up to the chair and hangs the newly developed x-rays on the cabinet behind me.

monkeys
swinging from branches
perfect smiles

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Snow Day

Growing up, my family moved up to Michigan. Very quickly we learned that snow days are almost weekly. In mid January, you can look outside and see snow-banks as tall as a small child. We had the fake-fire heater going in the middle of the living room. My two little brothers, both under the age of 10, and I had a snow day from school. We always had blankets in the living room, but this time we all snuggled up under my father and stepmother's favorite one. I can feel the warmth from the heater on my face as my step mother brings us her "world's best” hot chocolate. Cartoons are playing in the tv and all of us are contented. My youngest brother even brought my all of his stuffed animals down from his room, covering the couch.

snow banks
overlooking the home
taller than him

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Pulling Through

About two and a half years ago, my Mother was in a motorcycle accident on July 11th, 2015. Her boyfriend was driving the motorcycle, and he died on impact. My mother fortunately pulled through due to emergency medical personnel being present when the accident actually occurred. She was taken to St. Mary’s Hospital where they were able to stabilize her and then transfer her to St. Johns in Springfield where they had a level one trauma center. I delivered my daughter a few days later on July 14th. I stayed with my mom from the 11th until the 14th, while she was in the intensive care unit. She stayed there for six weeks. While mom was in the Intensive Care Unit I got hardly any sleep, on top of having a new born who needed to eat every 2-3 hours. I literally felt like I was starting to go crazy because of the lack of sleep and the stress.

the phone rings
my heart hangs up
why

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Dark Shadow

On the 4th of July my 6th grade year, my friends Ally, Adam, and I were giddy with excitement to light off fireworks at Adam's House (he has a huge backyard and lives in the country so no one would complain about our antics). After we went to the city's firework show at the lake, we stopped by Ally's house to pick up our box of fireworks to set off. It was very dark out by now and it was just beginning to sprinkle a bit, but we didn't worry, it was supposed to pass over quickly, though it made it rather chilly for a July night. No one was home at Ally's house so we would have to open the garage door and enter the house from the connecting door in the garage. The only problem with that was that the previous owner of the house, a man named Jack, had died in the garage over three decades before, so we were all convinced that the garage was haunted and avoided whenever we could—especially on dark and rainy nights. I remember the terror that danced through my chest as we entered the dark garage (the lights refused to work no matter how many electricians had visited—one reason we were sure it was haunted). As we cautiously approached the door, a shadow, that we all still swear was in the shape of a man, passed along the wall in front of us. Ally's scream pierced the air and I reached for Adam's hand and we all ran from the garage and back to Adam's mom in the car in the driveway.

no one home
a shadow, the shape of a man,
passes in front of us

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Oil Tracks Across the Driveway

I remember when I was a younger I used to get bored at my house in the country, so we would go walk the country roads. Every once in a while I would find an oily bubble that would bump up on the road. It was squishy and soft. I would jump on it and press on it and just have the most amount of fun a kid can have with oil bubble. My friends and I would take some of the oil that squeezed out and make drawings on the concrete if it was nearby. A lot of times that being near a bridge or just a concrete slab that might have been dumped. So we'd walk home after all of this and mom would yell at us because we would be covered in oil. Wed have to get scrubbed off by diesel fuel and take several showers just to get the stickiness off of us.

Today I find myself overwhelmed with how much I do. I work, go to school, and play sports. I find myself managing all of these things fine but it would be nice to go back to that age where I found the enjoyment of playing with oil bubbles. I miss spending time outdoors breathing in the fresh air and experiencing the wide openness that the country gives to us. You get to experience nature first hand and I feel very blessed to have experienced that for a huge portion of my short life so far because some inner city kids never got to experience that. Instead of running around looking at all the straining aspects of inner city life, I was able to deal with only the strain of being away from friends which in a way is okay because when I got older I was able to ride my bike the short 3 miles to town. All while riding in the oily mess that the road leaves me in and gets all over my shirt on the hottest of days.

country road bubbles
on a hot summer day
whitetails bounce across the field

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Until Next Time

I remember catching fireflies with my siblings. My family would have a barbeque if the weather was nice, and we would eat on the back porch steps and enjoy the nice weather. As the sun would start to go down we would see little green flashes of light in the trees. Seconds later they would be everywhere around us. We lived in the city of St. louis and the weird part about it was that while “hunting” fireflies, it didn’t feel like a city. No cars drove down the street, the street lights seemed to be mood lighting. It was just us and the lightning bugs. Now we needed something to store all of our lightning bugs, but it couldn’t just be any old jar. We would make sure to pull of a handful of grass and pick up twigs and put them in the jar to make the lightning bugs feel like they were at home. Before bedtime, we would all have our jars of lightning bugs on display on the night stand next to our beds, and when the lights went out, the room would glow with the fireflies we caught. In the morning they would not be in the jars where we put them the night before. Our parents would smart enough to send the back to their natural habitats, until next time.

warm breeze though sweaty
allergies beginning to set in
a hot bath

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The Whole "Visiting the Grave" Thing

Two years ago my great grandmother died and I remember when I went to her gravestone for the first time. It was a warm spring day, and I felt melancholy. My sister was supposed to go with me but at the last moment she decided not to because she was too scared to visit grandma in the ground. I went alone, and sat under a tree that is planted right by her headstone. I remember looking at the stone and seeing my grandfather's name on the stone as well, considering they are going to be buried together. My grandfather is still living and even seeing his name on the stone was odd.

My grandmother and I were always close and this was the first time I had lost someone close to me which made it particularly difficult. I wasn’t sure how to do the whole “visiting the gravestone” thing. Was I supposed to talk to her? Was I just supposed to sit and be with her? What was expected of me? It also doesn’t help that I’m not super in touch with religion or anything like that, so I wasn’t sure if she could hear me, or if I would just look super stupid. I ended up talking to her a little bit, but it helped to just be there with her.

your name
still alive . . .
even now

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Magical Childhood

Everything is so perfect when you're a child: the trees are higher, the colors are brighter, and every new day is more interesting that yesterday. Even more importantly, some things happen that stay in our memory for a long time and they end up being with us forever. The sounds, the sensations and the smells of being a kid is just so perfect. I was thinking of my childhood back in the year 2000. The autumn season has arrived, perfect weather—not so hot, not so cold, the sweet smell of the apple tree near my house and the falling of leaves. Everything seems so magical. And here I am playing hopscotch alone on my driveway. I was the only child back then. I didn't have any friends in the neighborhood. Everyone lived very far away. So, I would play alone. However, I did not feel lonely because I had a favorite doll of mine who would play with me. She was my friend and we would play together. I smell fresh apple orchards, warm spices of chilly, the scent of cinnamon, the sweet pumpkin spice, and the crisp chill of the air. These smells seem so pure and fascinating to me. The best years of my life were my childhood days. The sweet memories of this time were beautiful. I enjoyed perfect freedom. Had no worries, no hardships and no troubles. I wish I could get that day back when I was playing hopscotch in the fall. It was really the golden period of my life.

color changes
a girl eats apples
alone

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White Lick Creek

My grandparents have 13 acres of land including farmland, woods, and a normal front yard. In the winter, my cousins and I like to go over to their house to play outside. In the woods behind their house lies White Lick Creek. It is very shallow in some places, and then deeper in others. When all my cousins are over, we like to bundle up and head down to the creek to play. One time we followed the creek a ways into the woods. It was so frozen that we could easily walk on it. Although this made us colder, we were excited to see new things in the woods that we hadn't seen before. There are thorn bushes scattered throughout the woods, so we normally cannot travel far. As we walk along the frozen creek, excitement is in the air. After a long ways of walking, we came upon a small, frozen and shiny waterfall. Although it was small, probably only five feet high, we were in awe. We never knew there was a waterfall along the creek. Despite the cold, we played by the frozen waterfall for another hour or so before returning home to warm up our toes.

along the frozen creek
a waterfall
never seen before

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Bronze Gorilla

I remember going to the St. Louis zoo on a field trip when I was younger. It was a hot day so everyone in my class had pink cheeks from running around. I remember sitting on benches observing the gorillas and apes. Us kids used to imitate the animals and make sounds because we thought it was funny. I can smell the "zoo smell” with the different scents of the animals. I even have a picture with the bronze gorilla at the zoo. My mom always came on field trips with us and we ate lunch together. She packed us sack lunches with sandwiches, barbecue chips, and Capri Suns to drink. The bus ride home was extremely long because we were all packed in like sardines. I get a happy and light vibe thinking about the worry-free days at the zoo when I was young.

brown paper bag
peanut butter and jelly
between soft bread

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Itchy Sweater

I remember thanksgiving in my younger years. Everyone surrounds the dinner table as we await the tastiest dinner of the year. We pray aloud and most of us half-heartedly mumble along in order to please our parents who still identify with the meanings of the prayer's words. As I recite it, I look over the food on my plate—turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, and I anticipate the moments ahead where I’ll have a belly full of happiness. Looking toward my siblings, I acknowledge that they either quietly pray along or make a silent mockery of the seemingly outdated practice.

My dad’s eyes are squeezed shut in reflection of grace. He speaks loudly and clearly, letting us know his conviction to Christ. My sister looks at me and mimics my father’s shut eyes while sticking out her tongue. I attempt to not chuckle as the prayer is completed. As I reach for my fork, my father speaks aloud: “before we get started, let’s go around the table and say something we are thankful for.” We all groan at the banal idea as I count out 14 people at the table. 14 people I’d have to wait for until I could eat.

With the realization that I hadn’t eaten in 24 hours and the pressure of having to speak on a personal level with my family members, I try to gain confidence to speak both wholesomely and laughably. My family members speak out their thanks as the question rotates around the table, finally reaching me. In the midst of an uncomfortably annoying situation, I speak a cliché which is soon forgotten. We get to finally eat.

baby bump
hidden
wandering eyes at the table

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The Good Kind of Chaos

Christmas is my mom's favorite time of the year. She always goes over the top when decorating the house: from the house being covered in christmas lights, to the doorstep having some kind of christmas themed matt, to it smelling like pine trees when you walk into the house. The decorated house is a place of complete warmth and happiness. I think of how the house is always packed to the absolute max with every single family member you can possibly imagine. Kids are running around all over the place, almost running over my aunts who are cooking in the kitchen. You can smell the food my mom and aunts are cooking up. The anticipation makes many irritable. It makes me hungry thinking of all the good food that is cooked on this day. There's chicken, turkey, ham, potato salad, mashed potatoes, peas, corn, etc. So you can only imagine how long we would all have to wait to finally sit down to enjoy our meal. I hear nothing but chaos going on, but it's not the bad kind of chaos where you worry. It's the good kind of chaos, the chaos where everyone is simply enjoying themselves. All the adults are drinking wine; you hear constant clinking of glasses. My uncles are making toasts after toasts. At this point you can kind of tell they've had one too many glasses of wine already. All in all, you feel nothing but comfort and happiness in the home.

boisterous family
at the table—
can you pass the peas?

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