My Creek

There you would find me, sitting under the bridge.

Toes in my creek, enjoying the feeling of sand underneath me

and the shade from the long-overgrown brush.

Nature’s silence, almost calm enough to hear the corn grow.

Crops become a privacy fence

enclosing me in my little divot of land.

Watching as the minnow flow through my creek,

not a care in their world.

As the neighbors drive by, they peer into my creek,

tainting my secret cove with outsider knowledge of such a place.

The youngest one’s eyes cling to my path as he invades my creek,

destroying the confidentiality of my sandbar.

Days later I find my minnows

no longer flowing through my creek.

They are stuck in a cage that is not mine.

I free my minnows and enjoy their release.

Again, another day, my minnows are trapped.

I sever the wires of the cage that is not mine,

rendering the cage useless.

I watch as my minnows swim away with their life..

Again I return, this time with Mom.

We catch them in the act,

preying on my minnows that are no longer mine.

Mom tells me to share my creek.

I will not share my creek.

My means mine.

I destroy the traps once again,

this time burying the pieces just below the sand.

I place jagged, sharp rocks on my path.

I write DON’T COME BACK in my sand.

I cut poison ivy from the vine and cover my sand in the wretched plant,

waiting for havoc to come.

I watch out my bedroom window.

The neighbors come to my creek

and leave quite quickly.

I rush to my creek to check its conditions.

My plans have worked.

No more traps were added.

My path was untouched.

I won back my creek just as swiftly as it had gone.

Later that day, there is a knock on the door and I emerge from my room.

I find my mom and the neighbor family

as the young boys cower behind their towering mother; I begin to cry...

guilt washes over me.

I’m sorry, I say as genuine as can be,

but sorry does not cut it.

The boys are quite itchy,

rashes creeping up their spindly arms.

I’m so sorry, I say once again,

Mom snaps back and sends me to my room.

I’m not to come out until I’ve thought about what I’ve done.

I dwell on my guilt.

I look out the window as the neighbor boys leave happier than ever,

my guilty conscience quickly switches to rage.

My dad had given them each a twenty-dollar-bill-

for new minnow traps.

I storm out of my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

My anger permeates through the house.

I march pass my mom,

cramming my sockless feet into my shoes.  

Dad blocks my route to the door.

He holds out his wallet with a smile on his face,

Good job sticking up for yourself, that’s my girl! he smirks.

My anger dissipates as I realize someone else is on my side.

He hands me forty dollars as he scoops me up,

a princess in his arms.

Let’s go fix your creek, love.

I’m not alone in my creek this time-

I feel warm and fuzzy.

Maybe it’s our creek, I think to myself.