Falls of New Hope

Lately I've been thinking a lot about a handful childhood memories. I find a lot of comfort in these as they not only recall good family times, but also help me look forward to the coming summer. My favorite season. In light of this dreary coldness we've been having, the anticipation sustains me.


When I was growing up we lived in a rural residential community, there were only a few homes on this farm land and the homesites were large. The roads were not paved but dusty and wide. The surroundings were oftentimes corn field rows....Oftentimes at dusk during the hottest months we would go out for walks, being European we would not have dinner until late - 9 or so....so as the sun waned we would set out to take advantage of the cooling temperatures. My sister, brother, mother and I. I loved those walks, at five, six, seven, my universe seemed so wonderous. Right off of the road we could reach the prickly blackberry trees, we loved to eat those "mure" as we called them.....I remember that the air was thick and heavy and eating that sweetness made us all the more sluggish but excited too. It was always so disappointing to have to return home for dinner.

At the center of the neighborhood was a park, there was an old large gate there that was tall and rounded. I can't remember that gate ever being closed. Inside was a creek and small waterfall, huge boulders and meandering paths. Fino and I would spend hours and hours of those hot summer days looking for crayfish under the rocks. We would walk alone on those huge dirt roads, miles it seemed, during the day, perfectly safe and without a care. Our mixed breed dog "Dixie" pushing us away from any snakes that might be sunning themselves ahead of us. Dixie was the smartest dog, named after the Dixie Land my mom was so grateful to be living in. Dixie only answered to French and was completely, utterly and wholeheartedly in love with my mother. During those beautiful sunny days, it was hard to imagine that that sweet creature would die four years later , at my mother's side, eyes in love still until the light went out in them, struggling to overcome some poison she had consumed along the way somewhere.

Our home had large upper and lower wooden porches. On those summer evenings, after our bathes, my brother and I would run up and down those porches naked, with just a towel around our shoulders. Humid and droopy capes that we believed would take the next step into the sky. Our favorite play things were the grass and rocks and creek and trees that surrounded us. We loved being outside and though isolated, we had each other and our imagination had no limits.

Once a few years ago I returned to this neighborhood. There were more homes, the roads were paved, the cornfields and old farm buildings in the distance were gone. Many years of living and life were etched into my soul by then. My experience shrank the universe of that neighborhood, and though I looked around every corner, the wonder was gone......but just as it should be, Fino and Nani are in the past there still somewhere, cool water running over our small feet, turning over rocks, eating the berries,laughing at the crickets we chased, a vibrant and kind dog by our side, ghosts of a beautiful life beginning. I see them still, alive behind my eyes whenever I care to look and turn inward to watch the children still dancing there.....