have you left the place you grew up? do you ever go back? is it weird to drive through places you remember only as a child? didn’t the coliseum seem so much farther away when you were being driven around by your parents? everything seems so much closer now.
do you drive by your childhood friend’s house, across the road from Cynthia’s house. was that her name? didn’t she die of leukaemia when you were younger? do you remember when she came to the door of your classroom to say goodbye to everyone? see through skin and nearly white hair. she was only one grade older than you, wasn’t she? did she actually die or was that a story you told yourself during a time when you and your friends were chanting bloody mary into mirrors and learning to skip double dutch. you never could do cartwheels.
there is the house J used to live in. the house her father passed out in the shower in one day. i walk by it nearly every day with the dogs. the new owners don’t take very good care of her mother’s garden. it used to be much larger and so magnificent that she was part of the local garden tour offered in the summers. we took our prom pictures there. i was not yet 18.
can you not skate at Centennial Park anymore? the loop not plowed during winter? we always skated there, in the cold, going around and around until sitting made us dizzy. did you learn how to stop properly or are you still turning in circles until you slow down enough to stop? there were no food shops along the edges like there are in some cities now. you could walk through the small copse of trees in the middle. they’re still there. are they the same trees? i can’t tell. when we finally stopped for the day, we felt like we were still tied into our skates as we made our way up to the parking lot, rushing to get home to eat and warm up.
the long roadway, busy then as now. i learned to ride my bike without training wheels there. do you remember who taught you how to ride on two wheels? the places you fell off your bike? your aunt’s driveway, gravel. the road outside your house, gravel. your knees still marked by the violence, scars. you like biking now though. going so fast your hair whips in the wind.
do you remember?
nxx
I loved this! I felt like I was there with you and part of your experiences.