It’s like this
I ease my bedroom door open
The air conditioner hums as I step into the still hallway
Through the darkness, I reach for the railing
And tread down the carpeted stairs
Skip the third
And the fifth
Lean to the right
At the back door
The house holds its breath as I pull on the knob and step outside
Crickets sing as my feet meet the smooth slate, still warm from the day
I tiptoe
Until I reach the neighbor’s lawn
Dew splatters my ankles as I burst into a run
Down the street
To the next
And the next
Pebbles dig into my soles
But I keep running
Heart pumping
Flesh tingling
Giggles rising
Headlights beam through trees
I duck
Wait
Catch my breath
And start again
Racing through the warm summer night
To get to you
While writing my memoir, I'm digging through old blogs and files and asking friends all sorts of weird questions like, "What were we doing in 2010?"
A wonderful benefit of this process is discovering things I forgot I'd written, like this poem about the thrill and anticipation of sneaking out of the house as a teenager to meet my crush.
The nostalgia got to me, so I thought I'd share.
What do you remember most about warm summer nights when you were a teenager?
Sitting in folding lawn chairs under the big pine tree in my backyard, watching my crush smoke his Marlboro reds, swatting mosquitoes, then picking wild blackberries. Our fingers sticky and dark from the juice. Safe in the moment, in our secret place.