For every memory plowed under,

lost to little sisters
and crabby mothers

and uncles with tales of Vietnam,
tales that made me laugh
and made him slowly close his eyes.

To the people who took our stories
and rendered them as outlines.

For every toy borrowed,



lost in trees and under couches,

becoming one
with the bunnies.

For every bicycle
with dented handlebars

and bent spokes and skinned knees

and me, pushing it along.

To every ball lost under the pricker bush.

To skidmark competitions, Fish Out of Water, super soakers and garden hoses.
To spraying down the driveway and watching the puddles
evaporate in the sun.
To wasps' nests,

model trains,

jigsaw puzzles,

and night lights.

- - -

A prayer for all of this:

May my days be remembered as I spent them, and spent as I now remember them.
May these memories never fade; may they instead become a vintner's paradise,
aged in a cellar until clear and fragrant.
May my children learn from my past as I hope to learn from their futures.

May these memories keep me as well as I keep them.

May the wine be sweet.

May the stories be heard.

May the future bring me home.