I kept a wounded bird in a shoe box on your front porch
until it could fly free again.
It was my job to put the milk bottles in your milk box
for the milk man, Mr Jesse James…yes, that’s right. 🙂
When I was six I headed down your steps and up the hill
for my first day of school at Belmont Elementary.
There were to be many firsts that followed
as I descended those few steps.
My first date, first prom, first job, first marriage and then
I was just your visitor until you were sold.
An abundance of hours were spent on your porch.
I won’t venture behind the walls as that’s another story
for another day.
Staring up at what was my upstairs bedroom window,
I can still see smoke billowing out as my girlfriends
and I giggled our way through a pack of
cigarettes. Amazing the fire department was never called.
When this picture of you showed up yesterday
it prompted a flood of memories.
You really have not changed much at all.
It got my heart thumping a little.
After all, you are where I grew up.
Or, then again, maybe I didn’t.
© 2014 DiAnne Ebejer
Note: A friend was in the neighborhood (where we both lived out our
childhoods). She sent this picture to my phone yesterday. 2/1/14.