Running Boy

I awoke and was a boy once again. I didn’t know such things were possible. But there I was. Jumping out of bed, into jeans, sneakers, t-shirt and out the door.

I ran as I did in my youth. Carefree and wild. Feet barely touching the pavement. I ran through the old neighborhood of my former life. I ran to the tenement building in which I lived as a boy. Neighbors dangling from fire-escapes. Little metal front porches, one on top of the other. A welcome reprieve from the sweltering summer heat of their rooms. I ran up my old apartment stairs.

Three flights. Not a breathe lost as I reached the top. Straight ahead and to left. Into my former childhood. Through the front door. The kitchen. Laundry drying on a clothes line out its only window. Bathroom to the right. One tub. One toilet. Pull string wooden tank on top. No sink. No room for a sink. Just enough room to do your business. That’s how small.

Eleven children raised in that railroad flat. Four rooms. Good family. Good dad. Amazing mom. I ran past Thanksgivings and Christmas’s long gone. I ran through memories and dreams. Through tragedy and harmony. Past the old boxy black and white TV. No remote. The remote was me. I ran past bunk beds shared by many.

I ran through the living room that, at night, posed as a bedroom for mom and dad. I ran out the back door and out.

I ran to my old school. Up the stairs and through those halls I ran. Spooky nuns swishing along in their black habits. Long wooden pointers in hand. Ready to keep order. I ran past old friends, long dead or lost, maniacally happy in their innocence, not yet knowing what lay ahead. Some make it. Some don’t. They didn’t seem to care at that moment.

Back in the street I continued my run. I saw my former self running up ahead. He was running with his younger brother. I tried to reach them, but they were too fast. They were running toward the park. At the park they climb rocks. A boy up ahead fell, then slid. Down the rocks he came.

The old me broke his fall and the boy was grateful. I’d forgotten that moment. I cherished it for the longest time. Had dreams of newspaper cameras flashing as the mayor pinned a medal onto my cub scout uniform.

No mayor. no medal. Just happy memories.

.