i’ll never forget my days by the water
a childhood so perfect
it almost hurts to remember
seashells and crab boils, best friends and cousins
a brother so close
he was almost my double
sunburns and skinned knees and sand in our eyes
fishing and sandcastles
huge wide-open skies
potluck parties where parents talked politics
where active listening happened
and no one left mad
“beach bum” friends of my parents, ex-soldiers
recovering from war
found peace in the waves
bonfires, fireworks, beach birthdays and family
acceptance and love as
abundant as sunshine
i’ll always remember
those days by the water
I stumbled on the concept of “100 Word Wednesday” in a blog called Bikurgurl and decided to participate this week, Week 15 of the challenge. The prompt was this beautiful lighthouse, and the rules are simple: write something 100 words long, use this image or another of your choosing, and link back to the original blog. The lighthouse made me think of my childhood living by the water on a very different kind of shore on the Bolivar Peninsula in Southeast Texas.
This rough little poem came spilling out of me as I thought of those halcyon sand-ridden childhood days and so many memories flooded in. Everything seemed so safe, so permanent, so lively-lovely in our tiny town of 600, Gilchrist, Texas. My brother and I went to the beach almost every day, even in the winter. My aunt and uncle moved just down the street from us, and our cousins became more like brothers. Beach birthday parties and fireworks spawned grass-fires and the scruffy men of the volunteer fire seemed delighted to be called out. My mother made mirrors rimmed with sea shells and sold them at a local art gallery.
My parents, while definitely not hippies, had escaped the mind-numbing sameness and materialism they found in suburban life for the quirky, slower and sometimes downright backward way of life on the Bolivar Peninsula. I didn’t realize at the time that the larger world was present, even there. Mom and Dad hosted election parties and invited all kinds of folks from both sides of the political aisle, and taped the lively but respectful conversations to send to my uncle, who worked for Hamilton Beach in Africa and was on a plane that was hijacked on his way home (he survived). A young man who was AWOL from the Army climbed up our stairs turned himself in to my Dad on our deck one Saturday morning while we were watching cartoons. “Beach bums” staying in a cabin a few doors down from us turned out to be Vietnam vets, confused and weary guys trying to patch up their lives and come to terms with their experiences. They were kind to an awkward tween-age girl; they paid me a few dollars to embroider peaceful sayings and seagulls on their frayed bellbottoms. They remained friends with my parents long after they all left the beach for more stability inland. Hurricane Ike took away the entire town in 2008.
So many more memories and stories, but this was supposed to be a post for 100 Word Wednesday. So I’ll leave you with some links with related stories and a few pictures.
- More Winter in Southeast Texas: Birds in Gilchrist
- Now You Know: a Poem for My Brother
- How Far is Heaven? Remembering Kim-n-Steve
Copyright 2017, Glover Gardens Cookbook
Kim, I guess that I will just have to get used to being very impressed with you. This is wonderful. Love you!
Sent via the Samsung Galaxy S7 active, an AT&T 4G LTE smartphone
Aw shucks, Dad, you’re the best! Thank you for a lovely upbringing and still being a role model.
Kim, what a wonderful read. It brought back memories for me. Thank you for sharing with us. Robin
Robin, we had so many good times. I have some lovely photos of us posing in our matching purple velour blouses -remember them?
Oh so lovely – the poem, story, and images 💕 So happy you found us — thanks for joining us this week!!
It was an excellent visual prompt and a fun challenge. Thank you for the inspiration.
You are most welcome!
Sounds like a wonderful childhood! Enjoyed this so much.
Sounds like a wonderful childhood! Enjoyed this so much.
Thank you, Marti! It was a wonderful childhood, indeed. My brother and I used to joke that if we ever wrote a book together, it would be called Surviving a Perfect Childhood.
Oh, how we enjoyed your writing and your photos. Those houses are still as familiar as if we had just seen them yesterday.
What a wonderful, perfectly expressed life-chapter from your heart! You’ve condensed the flavor of that time and place that I, too, remember being so privileged to share too few times with you and your loving family. Thank you!!
Thank you, Tom B; you and marvelous Mary are a big part of those memories. I think I have a poem in me about the Sunfish.
Thank you for sharing your precious memories. Regards
Thank you so much for your affirmation; sharing these memories keeps them alive.
This is incredibly evocative! Those memories will forever live in our hearts ❤️❤️
Yes, right there on top where I can get at them whenever I need them. Thank you for stopping by!
Not only is this poem very evocative but there is so much to be read between the lines, the veterans recovering, the politics debated calmly – fantastic…
Thank you so much! I know that “looking in the rearview mirror” sometimes makes everything look kinder and softer through the gossamer lens of time gone by, but I still feel like it was a truly magical childhood, and that I am truly blessed.
This is so nostalgic, and the pictures reflect the words so well..
Thank you so much, Bjorn, it was a joy to capture it, and even more of a joy that my Dad was still alive to read (and relive) it, and that he made the first comment. He died just two months later, and his comments and regard reflected there are something I cherish. I really appreciate your feedback.
This is lovely and quite delightful and brought up wonderful memories of my own.
I’d love to hear your memories, or get a link to a post about them.
A memory and nostalgia packed poem, Kim. I loved reading about your childhood, so different to my own. I would have loved a brother. I really like the sibilance that creates the sound of the sea in the lines:
‘sunburns and skinned knees and sand in our eyes
fishing and sandcastles
huge wide-open skies’.