Old Spice Memories
From Peach
Crooked smile, dancing blue eyes
Citrus and Spice aftershave
I still see the green bottle
Sitting on the dresser next to
the humidor.
You didn’t smoke as far as I knew
Maybe the occasional cigar
Saturday mornings
Pancakes, extra spices
Nutmeg, cinnamon, clove
Splash of almond extract
Fresh lemon zest – Heaven...
The old wooden spoon
When we couldn’t afford
Real maple syrup,
you’d make your own
with sugar and spices
I didn’t know the difference
In plaid cutoff shorts
And solid work boots
Getting ready to tackle the lawn
I’ve always loved the smell
Of freshly mown grass
It reminds me of you
You were the chauffeur
Picking up or dropping off
Ballet lessons, ice skating,
Piano at Mrs. Byler’s
Play practice
Little League
Chemical Engineer
Helping me with school
Science projects
You made a replica of
the entire solar system –
measurements so precise,
no way my teacher
thought I’d made this
Barbecues and Picnics
Grilling up anything –
Ribs, BBQ chicken,
Clam bake...
Always plenty for
Whoever may show up
School Dances and Cotillion
Waltz, fox trot, even a little zydeco
You were my date to the
Father-Daughter dance
Decked out in
Our Hawaiian shirts
You made me feel special and beautiful
You made me feel loved and cherished
I hated to disappoint you – I only wanted your
Approval – I was a good girl
Dog walks with Daisy
Who wandered the neighborhood
Following her beagle nose
We’d play hide and seek,
Under the over-flowing mulberry tree
Ten hour drives to northern Michigan,
The Yellow Submarine loaded
Sleeping bags in the waaayyy back
Rich and I singing to cars behind us
“I’m a pepper, You’re a pepper, ...”
We packed powdered milk
Were we really that poor?
Cottage on Glen Lake surrounded by trees
Camp outs in the big blue tent
Feeding the spiteful swans
Chasing and hissing
Riding lessons, dune hikes,
Wildflower picking, water skiing,
Sailing, board games
Don’t think we were that poor...
I hated powdered milk.
You were a safe haven
Wish you didn’t work far away
And travel so much
Mom was unpredictable, volatile
I missed your steadfastness
Your easy way
Little did I know the secrets you kept
Three little girls elsewhere
Three little girls - needed you
More than I did
Three little girls
Lives upended
How could you love me that much
And yet, do that to them?
I can’t imagine you not loving them
As much
Later, I learned their names
Later, I learned their stories, their traumas
Later, I learned your story too
Only after you had died
One is a poet and writer
Who found my brother, Rich,
Also a writer,
On the Internet when they
were both writing about
You
You made mistakes
A failed first marriage
A failed second marriage
Only you never left
The price too high
I loved you still
Still do
No one’s perfect
Life is complicated
I’ve never been to war
Except in my head
I’ve never had to make
Peace with an alcoholic
I still see your crooked smile
Crooked teeth
And the light in your blue-grey eyes
Oh – to held by you again
To hear you call me
“Peach”
I’ll always be your Peach
About the Creator
Cathy Schieffelin
Writing is breath for me. Travel and curiosity contribute to my daily writing life. My first novel, The Call, is available at www.wildflowerspress.com or Amazon. Coming soon: Snakeroot and Cohosh.
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