Items from my Childhood

First to go into the moving box is the faded, pastel doll
That she affectionately called Susan
And the soft blanket, the enshrouding comfort
That once used to shine a pale yellow

She tucks in a dozing cat
Morgan is stretched out in the sunlight
His belly lazily rising up and down
Seemingly smiling, he purrs as he is packed

The Barbie jeep will need some gas
And a giggling passenger
To experience the voyages
But it goes in anyway

The blue down comforter is carefully folded
For springtime picnics with all her favorite dolls
Unfortunately the dolls don’t fit
She will need new companions

She hopes her roommate won’t mind
Reruns of the Grease VCR
While eating sticky pounds of
Velveeta macaroni and cheese

The walkie-talkies will have to come
Or else she won’t be able to call her sister
From the next room
To tell her she wants some more candy

And the pogo stick
For bare-footed competitions with cousins
Bouncing buoyantly up and down
in the summer twilight

Pink jelly shoes and sidewalk chalk
Tucked into a corner
In case she wants to draw roads on the pavement
And trace their contours with her Yellow Razr scooter

And what if it gets cold?
She will surely need her red pie hat
And pink plastic sled
For building snow women and ice igloos

She packs the beanie baby bunny
And Spice Girls T-shirt to wear to bed
Remembering the summer day of her sixth birthday
A gift from her very best friend

And the purple trampoline so she can be bounced to the sky
When her brother’s friends
The big kids
Let her play too

Beaded purple and blue curtains will line the door of her dorm room
So she can tell when someone
Is going in or out
And sneaking through her stuff

And of course she will need strawberry milk
And some homemade chicken soup
In case she ever gets sick
Or just wants to stay home from school

Unfortunately her mother won’t fit
Neither will dad brother or sister
Or boyfriend
They have plans of their own

She will have to journey alone
With her box of memories
To remind her
Where home is.