I
still hear my mom’s voice
giving
the directions—
“Go
west 2 miles after the blinking light,
then
turn north on 179th Avenue…“
the
directions to the land we ran on
playing
cops n’ robbers, hide n’ seek,
directions
to the trees that shape the winding paths
we
once spent weeks constructing,
directions
to the gravel we rode our bikes on
racing
or tracing figure eights,
directions
to the house that raised six kids
with
Walker after church and couch cushion
forts,
to
the barn that sheltered us from the rain
as
we rope swung in the straw and hay,
to
the cards we lost track of time with
playing
Peanuts, Merry Widow, and Whist,
the
directions to home—
“…go
over the railroad tracks and
we’re
the first house on the left.”