MEMORIES
I was four and you were six
Uncle T gave us twenty-five cents
And sent us down to the corner store
To buy a watermelon so big
That the wagon that had bounced behind us as we ran
We had to play push-me pull-me to get the watermelon-filled
wagon home.
We ate slices of watermelon and drank red soda pop
Until we were sweet and gummy from head to toe
Uncle T washed us down with the hose
We danced in the spray and chased the rainbows
Our mothers sent us to play shadow tag until we were dry
All the while we were waiting and watching for the first
lightening bug
You gathered for me a jar-full so that I would have
fireworks too
While you waved both our sparklers over your head
As the Milky Way washed the sky
I loved you then
When I was six and you were eight
You could run backward
Balancing on one foot then the other
As you ran backward from driveway to driveway
Down the curb
The wind seemed to lift your outstretched arms
And to anchor your feet as you scampered along
I tried to balance walking forward
Because you told me that was the way to learn
I spread my arms like a fledgling bird
But no matter how hard I tried
I ended up where I started
With nothing to show but scraped up hands and bleeding knees
Our grandmothers together wiped the tears on their aprons
And splashed the grit away
You blew on the Merthiolate as it dried
As the fireflies sparkled and the Milky Way filled the sky
You wanted to teach me how to balance
On the rope you tied from elm to elm
I loved you then
When I was eight and you were ten
Our grandmothers’ yards were filled with the clash of pirate
swords
With swashbucklers that boarded ships on ropes tied to the
elms
With the whoops of wild Indians riding wild mustangs on
galloping feet
With cowboys shooting their cap pistols into the fray
Circling their wagons made of crates and piles of gathered
brush
With soldiers moving stealthily behind the rose bushes
weapons at the ready
Faces painted with mud for camouflage
I never understood why I couldn’t be a pirate or an Indian
or a soldier or a cowboy
I could swing on a rope
I could paint my face with mud
I could gallop with Misty and Black Beauty and Flicka on the
playground at school
I even owned my own cap pistol and Davy Crockett raccoon hat
But I was always the damsel in distress or the nurse caught
behind enemy lines
You and David said it was because I was girl of course
So I was tied to crates in the bilges of a ship
Or caught under an overturned Conestoga
Or held in a lone teepee
Or tied in a hay loft
Waiting to be rescued by rugged men
Dancing in the chicken coop as the rooster pecked at my
ankles
Hoping the fireflies would soon come out
So we could play tag beneath the Milky Way
Until it was cool enough to go to bed
I loved you then
When I was ten and you were twelve
Your grandmother’s back porch no longer held jars of green
beans set from the canner to cool
Instead you had trains and track all waiting to be unboxed
Some days we did nothing but lay out track
Looking for the perfect combination of circles that
interconnected and intertwined
So two engines could run at the same time
Some days we built a station shed of lumber scraps and nails
and left over track
My Papa-Dada helped us in his workshop that smelled of cut
wood and small engine oil
Some days we made plaster hills and mountains in Nanny’s
washtub
Our hair spiked and our clothes stiff and the grass speckled
with white
Some days you let me paint the trees and roofs
While you did the more intricate painting of people and
storefronts
When bridges finally crossed over painted streams waiting
for trains to rattle across
When the track was tied and the lamp posts and buildings
were lighted and wired
The summer had slipped away
I think I expected the rumble of the Santa Fe as it passed my house in the night
But when you turned the switch and finally the trains huffed
and puffed from the station house
Lights on street lamps and in stores and houses lit the way
I and the stationary people lined on the station platform
raised our hands
At the magic as the caboose passed our way
We celebrated that night by chasing fireflies
And lying on the grass so you could show me
All the constellations and we wondered about the number of
stars
In the Milky Way
I loved you then
When I was twelve and you were fourteen
We spent our days talking about our dreams and our hopes
And seeing who could set my Little Grandma and our Aunt
Laura arguing
About who fell off the wagon
During the Oklahoma
Land Rush
They would argue all day we never really cared nor found out
who
While we laughed and played Scrabble (you always won)
And worked Aunt Irene’s crossword puzzles (I was better with
the crossword dictionary)
Once a week we walked all the way downtown
By ourselves
To watch the Saturday matinee
You held my hand as we passed the bars
Where the doors were open to catch a breeze
We could smell stale beer
And hear the honky-tonk music from the jukeboxes
And the clink of heavy glass mugs
I shivered when you told me about the one-eyed men
Who carried long knives in their cowboy boots
And who might come out fighting at any time
You were right
We saw it played out on the big screen week after week
While we sat on the back row
But still the time I loved the most
Was when we sat in the porch swing
Watching the fireflies flicker
Listening to stories
Dreaming along the Milky Way
I loved you then
When I was fourteen and you were sixteen
You tried to teach me to drink coffee
Black
I did my best to keep up
But there wasn’t enough sugar in the sugar jar
Or enough milk in the bottle
But I was impressed
We would all go out to the homestead
Where we would explore the falling down
Four-room shotgun house
Where your grandmother and my grandfather were raised
With brothers and sisters
You went squirrel hunting and frog gigging with the men
And I was content
Reading in the shade of the cedar tree
Little Grandma watered with her dishwater after every meal
Then you decided I should learn to shoot a rifle
Uncle T lined up the cans on a built up berm
I watched as your bird shot knocked them off one by one
You showed me how to aim and reminded me about the kick
So I would hold my shoulder tight around the butt
I think you and Uncle T forgot to tell me to keep my eyes
open
I pulled the trigger
Missed all the cans
And landed on the buffalo grass
But I killed the lizard that picked the wrong time
To sun himself on the rock
That wasn’t even near the berm
You helped me gather the pieces of his shattered body
At least those that we could find
And together we buried it beneath the cedar tree
I was still crying when the fireflies and the Milky Way came
that night
I loved you then
When I was sixteen and you were eighteen
You went to war
You wrote me letters about the people you met
And the dreams you dreamed
About what you would do when you got home
The boys who lived next door went to the same war
Darrell was too close when the napalm flared
He lost his sight and his hands and his feet
He was in a field hospital waiting to be shipped home
To a mother waiting for her broken child
Darrell’s big brother was headed for the air field
To see his little brother before he left
Donald was killed by a sniper
I was so afraid
You promised me that when I was ninety eight and you were
one hundred
We would stand outside
You would hold me so I wouldn’t fall down
We would watch for the first firefly
And marvel at the Milky Way
I loved you then
When I was eighteen and you were twenty
You went back to war
You wrote me letters about the people you met
And the dreams you dreamed
About what you would do when you got home
You made me promise that I wouldn’t be afraid
But I was
You reminded me to be brave for you
But I couldn’t
You had to be brave enough for all of us
So my letters were filled with questions
I’d met a boy who gave me roses
A boy who took me on long walks on a beach in the moonlight
A boy who caught fireflies and marveled at the Milky Way
This boy named Bill wrote me letters the summer he was
tagging turtles
When he came back he drove three hundred miles to find a
chaperone
So we wouldn’t be alone together
You told me to go ahead and give my heart away
I think mostly because of the fireflies and the Milky Way
I loved you then
When I was twenty and you were twenty two
We both made vows
Bill and I honeymooned by coming to your wedding
I told her (and I suspect you told him)
That they were caretakers of a very special heart
With much to pay for if it was broken
I shared with Bill the places where we had played
You told the stories of what we used to do
As we sat among the fireflies underneath the Milky Way
I loved you then
When I was twenty four and you were twenty six
I held your shattered heart for just a moment
While you held my first child
You blessed Chariti with your crooked smile
And you blessed me when you told Bill
She was as beautiful as her mother
Her heartbeat was as gentle as a firefly’s blink
Her skin as soft as the light of the Milky Way
I loved you then
When I was forty and you were forty two
We met in Cleveland
Once again you were alone and empty
Yet you blessed me with that crooked smile
When you told Bill and I that our family was without compare
You told us that though child number two didn’t look a thing
like me
Josi certainly had my flair for the dramatic
And a father who loved her
As mine had me
And him
We watched as she and her sister paraded by with the clowns
and mimes
At the time we used to see fireflies
But the lights were too bright in the city to see the Milky
Way
I loved you then
When I was forty four and you were forty six
You surprised us for Josi’s surprise seventeenth birthday
We sat in the piano bar
We listened to Josi and Chariti sing
We both cried for what you had had and lost
You squeezed my hand in a way that made me know
That even in the depth you were still there
If we wanted we could still dance among the fireflies
Or meet somewhere in the Milky Way
Someday
I loved you then
When I was forty six and you were forty eight
You drove eight hours after work
To care for me after I had surgery
And was going to be alone
You packed me up and took me to the aquarium
To the Inner
Harbor to sit in a wheel
chair to watch the tall ships come in
We ate lunch and fed the sea gulls
We laughed and people watched
We remembered
At the end of the day
I sighed as I settled into my recliner
I could see the fireflies through the windows
Dancing among the flowers
Too many clouds to see the Milky Way
But it was reflected in your eyes
As you kissed me on my forehead
And told me “Thank you”
I loved you then
When I was forty eight and you were fifty
You met us at Penn
State for Chariti’s
graduation
We sat on the porch swing
You and Bill and I
And listened to Chariti and Josi reminisce about their
childhood
About the fireflies they had chased
About the moonbeams they had climbed
To sleep among the stars of the Milky Way
When their mother told them stories
You knew
You understood
You had shared the same stories with the one you loved
I loved you then
When I was fifty four and you were fifty six
You had lost and found and lost again
The loves of a lifetime
You had buried yourself in a bottle
And your mother had to wake you up when Bill and I arrived
We rode the tractor over a sea of buffalo grass
To the pond where the ashes were scattered
A place so dark and deep that not even fireflies
Or the Milky Way could shine
All you could do was apologize to Bill
And hold me in your arms
I loved you then
Now I am sixty two and you are sixty four
You have found a lifetime love
My heart has relaxed
You now have children and grandchildren to fill your heart
They surround you with unconditional love
Because of genetics or Agent Orange or just because
You are living the Alzheimer that will take you away from
all of us
I suspect that should we even make it to ninety eight and
one hundred
Neither one of us will be able to stand
We probably won’t even know what a firefly is
But I am sure we will still marvel at the Milky Way
So I promise you I will not be afraid
I will be brave
I love you now
When the days and time are gone
We will find each other again
There will be new games to play
More family and loves than we can imagine
Both those who have gone before
And those we will wait to greet
No pain, no fear, no tears
Surely God won’t leave out some fireflies
As we walk along the Milky Way
I love you
Then
Now
And forever
For Donnie and Linda
Jorja Perkins Davis
August 2011
