The Moving Vans of my Childhood (late IP: moving)

By agnosticnun

Fri, 10 Oct 2014
  • 2171 reads
6 comments
 

As a child I lived in seven houses.
I learned how to sort life into boxes, that
gardens could make way for pavement,
to love only those toys I could carry myself.

The second house had a tree that grew to my window,
and I left a dog inked on the wall.

In each new neighbourhood I was an explorer,
stalking playgrounds, without backup.
Schools were hostile territory.

The fourth house stood empty after we left.
I visited once, climbed the back fence.
The lilac bush seemed lonely.

Twice, we lived in apartments. Each building
was a country, and packs of children roamed the halls.
The parking lot was a contested zone.

The seventh house was a chrysallis. I launched myself, leaving myself
scattered across the city, carrying it with me.

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Comments

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

I especially like the final few lines of this poem

 

Submitted by agnosticnun on

Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.

Kristi

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

i like this a lot!  Reminds me of my childhood and constant moving.  I developed a ritual of hugging the walls befor leaving  - to leave for the next occupant.  A story in every stanza.

Submitted by agnosticnun on

I love that - the idea of hugging the walls for the next occupant. Some houses do feel as if they were loved.

Kristi

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

This pictures childhood memory snippets so well, and the varying things that stick, and show the struggles. Moving into new areas, new school esp as a child, I remember (and the dialect, accent so different, and the blankness of understanding their background, trying to fit in, the pleasure of eventually finding friends). Rhiannon
 

 

Submitted by agnosticnun on

Thanks for this, I'm glad this resonated with you.

Kristi