The Summer House



My mother and aunts playing by the summerhouse.
My grandmother made their skirts and leis just for fun.
Many a generation passed the days away in this spot!

Today I took a walk
through the corners of my mind.
I returned to a little summer house
that I'd left far behind.
It is hidden beneath the shade
of my Mimi and Grandad's trees
cooled by the whispering freshness
of a summer afternoon's breeze.
The walls are made of white lattice
covered by heavy vine.
The floors are of cool packed dirt
smoothed by the winds of time.
Many an afternoon
was spent in this shady spot
naking mudpies with sisters and cousins
in a place of forget-me-not.
Our crowns were made of lantana,
our bonds were made of love,
our music was the cooing
of a lonesome turtle dove.
Oh, to get to stay there
for just an afternoon
for childhood is just a memory,
that ended way too soon.


Last night this poem came flooding into my mind. I had to get out of bed to go type it out before it slipped away. I had been reading a book on the history of my family and their lives in O'Donnell, Tx. It brought back so many memories of the wonderful times we spent there. My childhood was so very blessed. The backyard that held this summer house was filled with all types of shade trees. It had a treehouse and a beautiful old rock fireplace/bar-b-que pit. We had so many wonderful hours of make-believe and magic. I'd love to be able to go back in time to grab one more scoop of those precious memories--to get one more hug from my grandparents; to have one more hotdog cookout; to climb up the old pear tree one more time; to be cool in the shade on a hot summer day. Nowadays the memories serve as shade for a mind that is hot with the stress of adult life. I am so grateful for the little summerhouse that stands waiting for my mind to run and hide inside---if only for a moment!