fleeting moment

I am from

I am from the scent of maple, beech and cedar woods, cherry blossoms, lilac,

May apples, jack-in-the-pulpit and dog toothed violet

the sweet smell of sap steaming through the sugar shack as the wood stoked fire crackles through the night

from perching in giant maples to watch the wheat fields wave gently to the darting dragons and the  floating butterflies

from country roads undulating through  streams of daisies, goldenrod and Queen Anne’s lace

picnics in the orchards featuring kool aid, sun ripened plums and homemade brownies

back breaking strawberry fields and black cap bushes that never end

climbing ladders to pick pears and peaches from sky scraper trees

 grape harvest and crimson maple trees while your breath floats in early morning darkness loading produce for market

from after market hot beef sandwich restaurant lunches and an afternoon browsing the city library shelves while dad read science magazines and mom did the weekly shopping

from the secret passages through the house and the attic filled with wondrous treasures where playmates travelled to imaginary worlds and tolerated troublesome brothers

from a stolen stash of comic books and a place where play breathes new life into useless junk

where long sweaty walks home ended in a feast of freshly baked cinnamon buns, oatmeal cookies or cherry pie

from candy apples and party hats, skating on local ponds, sledding on the hills, swimming in gravel pits, and riding in the Santa Claus parade

from a 2 room country school where the well dressed kids wore homemade clothes, ringlets were in fashion, boys and girls lined up at separate doors, baseball ruled and by grade 7 Elvis reigned

everyone knew your history, praised your talents and wanted you to succeed

aunts, uncles and cousins who lived on farms always featured on weekends with their mysterious hay filled lofts, horse drawn wagons, tables laden with homemade pickles, preserves and wonderful baking and cupboards filled with games

from the steep climb up the steps of the general store for black gumballs that made rainbow colours in your mouth and where a generously scooped ice cream only cost a dime

from a mom who ran Church suppers, Sunday school and youth groups and a dad who loved to ask ’What if?’

and a family who always remembered my birthday with a strawberry decked cake