The aberrant Chicago heat
Awakens me from a drowsy slumber
Sweat dampens my forehead and sheets alike
Kicking off my floral comforter
I reprieve the heat that has enveloped me
I am no stranger to this environment
Like a match scraping against a striking surface
I see sparks of a small blue house in my mind
I am instantaneously transported to this place
In the heart of Alabama
Nestled between hefty pines and a vast lake
For many years my family owned
This small blue house
It is a place that inextricably
Links me with my childhood

It is not yet ten a.m.
But the weather is already oppressive
The sun, newly risen, blazes
My clammy face effuses a bright red glow
Perspiration dances off of my body
Lethargy clouds my mind
Heat is the king of Alabama
And he is never lacking his queen—Humidity
Like a rioting dissident I run off the dock
Into the clear, refreshing water I plunge
Blowing out bubbles of air
I sink down to the dark cool depths
I mock the king and queen
I have evaded their tyranny






I can feel the grainy silt beneath my feet
I can hear the squelching of the clay and mud
Between my toes
Dragging a long stick behind me
I leave an impression in the red mud
I am a forty-niner, a pioneer
With a persistent gaze towards the ground
I search for inimitable rocks to add to my collection
My pockets overflow with these treasures
Perhaps I have found an asteroid, a geode, gold
As the sun sets over the lake
The once blue sky is set aflame
With bright hues of orange, purple, and red
I set course to our dock
I follow my footprints with tokens of adventure in hand

The moon reflects on the black water
Tree dwelling cicadas join in orchestra
17 protracted years of dormancy
Have led to their liberated melodies
Fireflies zip between the tall grass and wildflowers
The owls hoot in lament
Searching for something nameless
The din of an eager Red Sox announcer
Can be heard from the study
A full day of adventure has left
My body feeling leaden, heavy
I begin to dream of my day
And of what tomorrow will bring
Perhaps we will take a ride on the boat
Or head into town

Mom sets fire to the grill
The heat of the cooker crafts a mirage
She lays large steaks over the hungry flames
The savory meat morphs from pink to brown
The heavenly smell wafts into the air
Making my stomach giddy with delight
Not long after
Country dogs climb the steps
To our back porch wagging their tails
In hope for a sliver of the righteous substance
Satisfied with our full stomachs
We release gristle and fat to our canine friends
They joyfully feast upon the
Undesirable morsels of our banquet

The rain falls unabashedly
On the roof of our small blue house
Board games stacked high
Quickly empty the shelf
Many rounds of monopoly later
I find myself in the sun room
It is there that I reincarnate Picasso
And set up a small easel
I gaze out of the large bay windows
Searching for inspiration
My fingers attempt to capture the image of the lake
Swirling and Churning
I paint the white capped waves in the distance

The weekend of the 4th of July
Was nearly always spent
At the small blue house
Together, my family and our neighbors
Would gather in our boat
As the sun began to crouch below the horizon
And darkness fell upon the lake
We would travel down the channel of endlessness
Flying over the silent water
My blonde curls whipping behind
We raced to an explicit destination
Abruptly stopping, we paused
Suddenly cheerful fireworks lit up the sky
The same triumphant sparkles floating in the air
Existed in the reflection on the black lake

Making passage to water’s edge was no simple feat
From the small blue house one was expected
To descend numerous timeworn stairs
The rickety wood of the flights
Was adorned with a cacophony
Of intricate arachnid webs
Occasionally large yellow banana spiders
Were sighted nesting in the artwork they had created
To avoid the spindly mesh and its maker
I carried a large stick in front of me
This task was assigned each morning and
In order to break the monotony of this occupation
I became a powerful witch
Wand in hand I used ancient spells
To defeat the plotting spiders
On idle summer days
I would fashion rafting tubes to our dock
Floating on the gentle surf
I altered into a ruthless pirate
In search for a long concealed treasure
I commandeered each tube taking no prisoners
Mercilessly I harassed each duck or snapping turtle
That came within the vicinity of my vessel
One day, my imagination running rampant
I failed to realize the tube was boundless
Detached from the dock
As I drifted away from reality
I also drifted away from that which had anchored me
After initial panic I jumped ship
Tugging my fleet behind me, I arrived safely to shore

As a conqueror and explorer
I made it my duty to scour the surrounding area
Particularly the woods that encircled our house
Shortly after dinner
I set out in search of finding wild blueberries
I bravely stepped into the shade of the thick trees
But not long after I found myself lost
The proximity of the tall oaks left me suffocated
Sun setting, I felt a sense of urgency
I traveled deeper into the woods
Heart racing, palms sweating, dread taking over
I was entirely lost
Eventually I was spared from doom
Spit out of the forest, I found a road
That led me back to the small blue house

As I have aged I have come to realize
That I no forty-niner
Nor am I Picasso, Black Beard, or a conquistador
I am simply me
Sometimes I feel as though I am lost in that forest
Untied to that dock
Ever searching for myself
Who will I become?
What impact will I make?
I believe that my memories of the small blue house
And the transformative powers of my imagination
Will guide me to the road, the dock
So that I can return to the small blue house