I remember that place,
I remember the way
it took “six whole hours”
to get there.
I remember stepping out of the car,
kissing the beautiful earth,
and running in circles for
joy.
I remember racing my sister
to our cabin,
made of wood
and memory.
I remember waiting and waiting
for them to get here,
reading, arranging, sleeping
trying to be patient.
I remember always being
in that one circle-
we always reserved
the same cabins,
our cabins.
I remember Sunday,
the wonderful brunch
and the itchy clothes.
I remember sweet Gatorade
and a million pictures.
I remember hiking-
leaves
and
butterflies.
I remember the pool,
marching down the road
with a noodle around my waist.
I remember jumping into
the shallow end,
the trail of blood that
followed me.
I remember my doctor uncle,
who held me in his arms
as I cried,
laughingly telling me,
I was not going to die.
I remember catching toads,
trapping them in my hands,
as if my fingers were a cage.
I remember the Ride,
riding our bikes down the
long winding road,
stopping to eat Dove Bars,
my sister with hornets up
her baby shirt,
8 stinging red circles on
her pale stomach.
I remember picnicking,
I remember rolling down the great hill,
I remember laughing
and eating Mimi’s nu nus,
and dancing in the rain,
and making special places
out of wooded nothings,
sitting in faerie rings,
eating BBQ,
falling in love with summer.
I remember the only name
I ever called it,
I remember
Punderson.
