My Childhood Happy Place

Everyone has one,
A room, a workplace,
maybe a family cottage.

A place where they can be the most productive,
and draw the most of their inspiration,
and be their happiest selves.

This place for me is my neighborhood,
a cul-de-sac up the street, a circle of houses,
that brings me so much joy even to this day.

They all blend together,
into this perfect little happy place,
that is my childhood in Ada.

Summer is the best time of the year here,
to spend in the sun, in the humid sticky heat,
riding bikes and running around.

The tangy taste of freeze pops, the musty scent of chalk,
The grass stains on my knees, the ice cream adventures,
the ache in my legs the next day.

The silvery moonlight that illuminates the late night games,
The soft orange glow of the bonfire, where the parents sit for hours,
The shouting and screaming and adrenaline pulsing as we all sprint through the yards.

The weight of a five year old boy, hugging my legs,
and the tug of an eleven year old boy’s hand in mine, both begging me to play four square.
The beat of the music blaring from portable speakers that sit on a nearby porch.

The firm grip of an eight year old girl’s little hands on my hair as she learns to braid,
And the echoing bounce of a basketball in a driveway nearby,
The endless evening hours of sitting in the cul-de-sac, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

There are so many pieces that make up this puzzle
Of adventures and family, of late nights and sunlight days,
that has been a part of my life for almost twelve years.