Words

Take me back to the days when we would swing

from the branches of dogwood trees,

run down to the dock with our minnow nets

to check the crab pots,

or in early summer, before the jellyfish,

jump off the end of the wooden dock

into Peachblossom Creek

and swim across the river to the strand

to play in the tidal pools

until we were called in for supper

No one ever

tells

children

the truth

that at some point

childhood dies

it happens slowly so you don’t notice

and once it’s dead, it’s gone forever

Days you can never have back

Freedom as pure as a summer’s evening

stripped away as naturally and steadily

as winter strips the earth of its green

There are no more summer days

for us

at the house

on Peachblossom Creek

We all grew up, our parents grew old, and our grandfather passed away

It’s been years since that land was sold

with its great magnolia trees

that bloom every spring

if they’re still there

perhaps they bloom each year for another happy family

but I don’t dare

turn right off the Oxford Road,

the first right after Peachblossom Creek Bridge,

onto Old Country Club Road,

where the gates to the house are less than a mile in,

I don’t dare go back again

the sight of how the years have changed it

I probably won’t recognize it

The house where we celebrated so many Christmases

and summer nights catching lightning bugs

those years when we were children

those times that can never happen again

as we scattered apart like leaves on the wind

No one ever told me that’s what

growing up is.