My Screen Door

The concrete was hot on my feet that late summer evening. My toes curled in response to the slight discomfort. A symphony of crickets and locusts permeated the warm evening air like an orchestra welcoming the night. I stood there listening to their song, nostalgia washing over me again. Memories of messy brunette hair, bare feet, climbing trees, and hunting rollie pollies, dusted themselves off and re-visited me. Standing there I realized the air was different now, my once wild imagination had slowed and I missed the bursts of ideas that often sparked a succession of poorly engineered parachutes and forts. The simple moments of my childhood, now an intangible artifact only I could see. A hint of sadness wiggled its way to my heart as I headed for the screen door to flee from it. The end of my back heel just made it passed the threshold as I heard the door click behind me. I can’t be certain, but I can almost swear that out of the corner of my eye I could see that messy haired child, with eyes full of wonder standing there, looking in, just outside my screen door.



Published by sarcasticallycynical

Hmm! Let's see.I live in Texas born to two human parents (According to my birth certificate) and have three siblings that are nothing like me. I'm an artist and writer. I've lived a lot and learned a lot in my short life and although I lean more towards the pessimistic there is always room to change my sometimes too small tainted heart ;p

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