Sidewalk Words

through the years

Strange how words change things.

Walking down a sidewalk past Wakefield Library, two passengers, one three-year-old rides high in pack above my shoulders, yearling hangs in front. Sometimes the only way both can sleep. I was tired. Forgot to be grateful. Mother/wife Martha trying to unfrazzle at home after a long day of mothering. By the time we got back there would be a warm woman, hot meal, beautiful smile, but I forgot to be grateful. Can you believe it? Two children riding me for miles and miles. I was tired. And the damn flashbacks. I wasn’t much older than them when unholy hell happened. Two middle-aged men walked ahead. Quiet conversation not meant for me. I overheard one sentence: “You know, it’s never too late to have a happy childhood.” I chuckled on the way home. Many miles over many years those words sustained me. Now I am seventy. Children middle-aged. My smiling wife is ailing, not feeling poorly yet, but closer to the end than I. Don’t know how long we have. We plan to visit Newfoundland. Martha loves those big black dogs. Perhaps before, we will visit a town teeming with white squirrels. We’ll be having happy childhoods together. May it be so. ~ Wry Welwood February 2023

In response to a prompt by KSHernandez in The Bazaar of the Bizarre Publication: Explore brief interactions with me.