Sunday, July 13, 2008

Oldest Friend for Sunday Scribblings

Anita and I became friends in kindergarten back in 1954. She lives in Florida, now, so I don't get to see her very often. Last September she came up to NH to visit her parents and we made plans for me to visit her after school.

As it turns out, I now live in the house I grew up in and my mom stays with us for 6 weeks in the fall so the following was like deja vu.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A warm September afternoon.
I get home from school,
change into red shorts
and a white shirt,
tell my mom I’m going
to Anita’s

and walk down the street
to her house,
knock on the door
and sit at the kitchen
table chatting
with her and her mom.

We went through
this after-school ritual
for years
during the sixties
and here we are today
doing the same thing.

We talk about boys
(our husbands and sons, now)
and gossip about
school friends,
complain about homework
(now called housework)

and reminisce while the clock,
still above the washer and dryer,
slowly ticks to late
afternoon when I have
to say goodbye
and walk back home.

The sun is just melting
behind the elephant head
of Mt. Forist. Shadows
inch imperceptibly down
the street and I walk
into them.


Lucy said...

how lovely and special this relationship is!
You told it beautifully! You and Anita have come full circle and are so lucky for it. thanks for sharing. :)

Becca said...

Who says you can't travel back in time? You pulled me right back into the past with you. Loved it!

anthonynorth said...

Beautiful and nostalgic. As if time stands still.

Tammy said...

How cool is that to step into your past and present at the same time. Wonderful!

danni said...

absolutely heartwarming!!!

odessa said...

this is lovely. i love how you mixed the past and the present together. the image of walking into the shadows is so beautiful.

paisley said...

this was delicious... and how fun it must have been to be able to do just that.....

Anonymous said...

This is another wonderful poem. As the child becomes the woman the day lengthens into evening. Beautifully made poem, measured, intelligent, evocative and with a subtle but effective craft. These two poems by someone I had read before have really made my day. Thankyou. You are an artist and an artisan of the language.

Linda's Poems