Summer in the country:

My Uncle's house, an old farm house
with hardwood floors that squeaked and
closets that smelled of cedar chips/mothballs

I remember sleeping on a mattress so soft it felt like sinking
I recall Whip-or-Wills and spraying myself with Off!
head to toe

Now, decades later
visiting again it all came back
Even before the sunlight pulled away from the tall ceilings
before fireflies circled the edge of the forest
I look around at the same faded photos
the same nightstand with vases of plastic flowers

I could lie on the bed and remember it all.
It was an old house then. It's older now.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.