Long Ago Summer

I remember the summer we

stayed with Nanny and Poppy.

We used to walk our mother around the

corner to the bus stop. On the way back we

stopped and picked up the hibiscus blossoms to

mix into our mud pies.

One terribly stormy afternoon our grandparents

made us sit on the couch, no lights, no television,

no radio.  The lightening flashed through the lace

curtains. There was thunder, wind and pouring

rain. When our mother came home, jumping over

downed wires, we cried.

Evenings after dinner my sister and I sat around the

kitchen table with Poppy.  We ate Ritz crackers with

grated cheese and played Sorry while

Poppy drank his nightly glass of buttermilk.