Lindsay

15

I wake up to the sound and smell of my mother,
Cooking breakfast in the tiny kitchen.
No one else is awake
As we claim two seats on the porch.
We eat and talk,
Laughing at some innocuous piece of gossip
She heard in the grocery store.
The rest of the family gradually awakens;
One by one the slow addition of their voices
Joins with our own,
Until we have a complete chorus.

Everyone has eaten now- it is time to set off
On our daily adventure.
We set off in the boat, tootling along the lake
Until we reach a little inlet,
Where we jump out to swim around.
My mother calls out to us:
“Are you wearing your noseplugs?”
Our heads bob, up then down, as we nod back,
“Yes, mom!”

Soon, it is time for lunch.
We pull out sandwiches and lemonades,
And have a little feast on our little boat.
When all the crumbs have been licked
Off all the fingers, we jump back in.
My father calls out to us:
“Are you ready to go home yet?”
Our heads shake, left then right, as we yell back,
“No, dad!”

When we can no longer refuse our father’s entreaties,
We return home to cook dinner.
Before long, the scent of burgers and fries
Permeates the living room.
All of our noses shoot into the air,
Sniffing like bloodhounds.
We gather around the table,
And as soon as our plates are set out in front of us,
They are emptied.
Once the table has been cleared,
We set out a deck of cards
And play until our hands are so tired
The kings and queens lie vanquished on the field.

Off in the distance,
A throng of birds accompany a band
Singing retro music from my parent’s generation.
Every once in a while a swell in the waves
Laps against the shore
And in between the cymbal clashes,
You can hear a light swish-swish, swish-swish.
As my family sits out on the porch,
The murmur of our quiet conversation
Joins the band as well,
And in between the guitarist’s chords,
You can hear a muted haha-haha, haha-haha.

The setting sun causes a chain reaction among the houses
Settled along the edge of the lake.
One by one, like fireflies at dusk,
They take turns lighting up
And blinking out.
It is late now.
No more boats can be seen streaking across the water.
No more giggling children can be heard
Playing at the shoreline.
And inside our house,
The only sound is that of five slumbering bodies shifting in their beds,
Restless for tomorrow to come
Faster than it did yesterday.