Childhood Memories

Memories for a Lifetime

By Josh Watkins

Cars race by my window,

Shaking it in terror.

The rain, wanting to get in on the action,

Pounds the pane at full force.

Lying on my bed, covered in a sea of pillows,

I can’t help but remember

the days of my childhood where I felt

as id I was on top of the world.

I dig deep into the wonders and memories of my mind,

and find myself on my black Huffy bike,

sitting at the beginning of the woods,

ready to fly. I shift my eyes to the left,

then to the right, looking for anyone brave enough to challenge me.

No one is there.

The wind howls with laughter.

I slam my feet onto the pedals

and pump my legs as fast as

my strength could carry them.

The walnuts beneath my tires

split and crunch like helpless ants in a rainstorm.

Faster and fast, my mind keeps telling

my legs, knowing a certain speed must be

acquired to clear the deadliest obstacle; the

Mini Hill. A small hill it may appear to be,

but it has claimed many victims in its day.

The wind is fighting me,

Trying to hinder my course.

I fought the wind and challenged the hill,

The wind was no longer fighting me

but carrying me through the air.

No one could touch me,

I had risked my health and conquered

what others have feared.

As I landed, I turned my gleaming eyes,

and saw the Mini Hill, lying there

with a tire tread over its face.

I could see the muddy tears flow from its banks.

CRACK! The sound of the nearby thunder

makes me realize I am still in my bed,

lying in my cozy little room listening

to the sound of rain.

How soft and soothing it sounds,

Like music to my ears and a lullaby

To my heart.

I drift back into my mind and find

Myself outside in a heavy thunderstorm.

It is the summertime and torrents of rain are

rushing down the street,

purging it of all its trash and debris.

I am happily playing in the rushing water,

Jumping, splashing, yelling,

as it washes over me and I wonder,

why it is in such a hurry to reach its own demise.

I try to save it by building tiny dams

out of sticks, garbage, and stones;

but the raging water crashes through,

Bringing more projectiles and waste to finish

off my hard-work.

Suddenly, my feet get an urging sensation,

I feel the need to run.

Not caring about all the sticks, walnuts, and other

miscellaneous objects that pierce my soft, tender feet,

I flew.

I went as fast as I could, trying to

dodge the rain with no particular destination.

How I miss those days.

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

The storm tapers off, leaving behind puddles

and small streams that attract critters of all sorts.

I step outside and take a deep breath,

The air smells humid, hints of fresh rain.

Clouds are vaporized as the sun chars them mercilessly.

I close my eyes and feel the world around me,

Letting my childhood memories feel so real, so close.

Those days are a part of me,

 Forever they will remain in my heart.

This one's long because it reflects upon some of my greatest childhood memories. This reflection actually happened here in Cleveland and these are true accounts of things I did as a child. 

The first one was of my bike racing days. I had a black one speed Huffy Bike. A Huffy Bike was the coolest bike  then. I took pride in it and treated it like any young boy who owned a Huffy would. I raced it, ran it through mud and puddles. Over walnuts, sticks logs, and hills. There was one hill in particular in my back yard. The neighborhood kids, my siblings, and I would hold races and competitions on what we called the Mini Hill. It was about two feet tall and was part of our course. We got some nice air off it, but it also claimed it's victims. I crashed about as many times as I cleared it. I hit our shed, a few trees, and even destroyed a picnic table off the hill. Those were our glory days.

Our street was on an incline, so when it rained the water would rush down and collect everything in its path. We would go out in the summer rains and build little dams to try and stop it, but honestly had more fun watching the water destroy it. Once we got bored with that, we would run in the rain, through our woods and all over our big yard. We didn't need video games, cable TV, or electronics to entertain us. It was the life.