memories
4.9.06

“Mom, what time did Mrs. Linder say she wanted me to walk the dog?” I asked, coming up from the basement and strolling into the living room. Mom was lying on the floor in the sunlight from the window, next to my cat, reading.

“Uh, sometime between two and three. You should probably go down now.” She turned her head to face me. “Take the mail key down with you and bring the mail back up when you come back, please.”

I shrugged. “Okay.” I turned away, slipping my sweatshirt onto my arms and plopping the keys in the pocket. “Try not to let her take all the sunlight,” I told the cat, indicating my mom, who laughed and kicked at me half-heartedly with the back of her foot. I dodged, grinning, then waved goodbye and headed out the door.

The day was cold and crisp, an odd-duck autumn day in the middle of spring. I zipped my sweatshirt up a little higher and hunched in on myself, grateful at least for the sun. I hated the cold with a passion, and cold days in spring made me grumpy. As I walked down the street toward my neighbor’s house, I stared at the neighborhood. The development-type houses all looked alike and bare, and the leave-less trees didn’t help the picture at all. Even the almost dead grass looked bare.

Crossing the Linder’s yard, I pulled the key out of my pocket and opened the door. Sal, the dog, scrambled to her feet in the den as I entered the house, and I pushed open the den doors and let her out of the house. Then I grabbed the leash off the kitchen counter and followed her outside. She was lying on the path leading to the front door, and I knelt down next to her to scratch her belly and clip her onto the leash.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust when I noticed that she was peeing. She was the type of dog which is small, over-excitable, and apparently unable to control their excretion. Yuck. I hurriedly clipped the leash to her collar and stood up.

She followed me happily across the yard and toward the street. It was empty; I lived on a cul-de-sac, which was rarely visited by cars. Sal quickly passed me so that she was leading, as we crossed the street toward the sidewalk. I stared blankly at the windows of my house, humming something in my throat to pass the time. Sal paused, sniffing the ground, and I stopped walking and shifted my weight from foot to foot. Then she started again and I followed her.

As we reached the long stretch of houseless land, I saw two boys running through the woods down from their house. They hadn’t seen me, but as I watched, they stopped at the stream that I had spent glorious summer days by. Their presence in one of my old haunts spilled memories into my head in a rush, and I faltered. Was I really so old that I no longer belonged here? I was only fifteen.

A girl stood, perched above a small waterfall, balancing on a bark-less staff and laughing as her friend slipped and fell into the water. She reached and helped her friend out of the water and then stepped back toward a rock nearby. Sitting down, she laid the staff across her knees and watched a squirrel climb the tree in front of her.

A girl knelt next to a stream, digging industriously at the earth beneath her feet. She sat back on her heels, pouring a handful of seeds into the hole. Then she placed several wide oak leaves over the opening and covered it all with a rock. Standing up, she brushed the dirt off of her hands and smiled to no one in particular.

I mimicked the smile I made several years ago, secretly glad that the woods were no longer alone. Once, we had been friends, but in the two recent summers, we had drifted apart. Now, these children, who I didn’t know, were following in my footsteps. Thank god for the curiousity of a child. I watched one twirl a stick in the air, testing it. I could remember myself doing the exact same thing.

“You’re not alone, anymore,” I told the trees silently, a sob-feeling growing in my stomach and tears growing in my eyes. But I bit them back with a smile, and walked back up the hill with Sal, reveling in memories. Somehow, I knew that even when I was twenty and off at college, the little woods by the side of the road would have a play-thing.

--twirling flags

based on a true occurence... namely, me. and the dog. yay.