I hardly remember
what the houses looked like
in Greensburg, Louisiana
where my daddy was raised.

In our brief visits
when my brothers and I
were children,
I got to experience
life very different
with cousins I didn’t know
who became friends fast,
as we usually only had the day.

They showed me where
to tiptoe close in
to yellow jacket nests
in the tall grass
just so we could run
when they swarmed.
I passed time
checking out the cows and bulls,
wondering how an old rickety fence
was actually enough
to corral the beasts.

I remember running backwards
with my daddy and his cousins
across a front yard
maybe belonging my great-grandparents’.
It seemed to last forever,
extending further
the harder I wished
to finally reach the porch.
Once I got there
no strength left
I sat waiting for lemonade
all out of breath
and still rooting for my daddy
who raced his cousins again.

Coming from the city
everything
seemed old and rustic out there.
It was thrilling!
I was inside one of those
cowboy movies
I used to watch
back at home in New Orleans.

No particular movies
come to mind
only the sense that I loved
watching them
and eating salted tomatoes,
just my daddy and me.

©2009 by Shari Lynne Smothers