Summers in Spring Shadows
written by: Waide Riddle
I remember the autumns and the falling of Oak tree leaves.
I remember the winters and ice-covered tree limbs.
I remember the springs and the sweet smell of roses.
I remember the summers and the last day of school.
Summers in Spring Shadows, Houston, where I lived as a boy.
Running free down my street on Anniston.
Running across the grassy fields next to the family home.
Picking wild pink buttercups to present to my mother.
Spring Shadows is where it all started for me.
My Home. My Roots. My Beginning. My Origin.
Like it, or not. For better or worse.
School was out and my imagination ran wild, just as I did in the fields next door.
The beauty of summer. Its scent and energy and HEAT!
I’d ride my bike up and down the neighborhood streets.
The streets of Spring Branch and Spring Shadows.
My neighborhood was new and beautiful. The 1960s and 70s. Picture it!
The music of the time was timeless and precious; urging all of us to the dancefloor to resolve our
troubles and dry our tears.
Spring Shadows was a safe place for children. Running, playing, imagining.
Summer thunderstorms. The thunder cracked!
Running wild and running free between raindrops.
A blistering sun behind the storm clouds.
Running to the safety of my room.
Taking out my paper and pencil and writing.
Poetry, short stories, thoughts, journaling.
Knowing one day I would publish them.
The storm gave way to the hot sun.
Steam rose from the watery pavement that was my driveway.
Every day around 4 pm. You could count on it.
The sun shining and blinding off the fresh reflections of rainwater.
The summers were full of that timeless music and laughter. Dancing and more dancing.
Those summers were full of singing with the Carpenters and Aretha and Elvis!
The laughter from my mother, my father, my brother, my grandparents.
Filling the air with a lasting echo.
Summers in Spring Shadows.
I wish I could return to the happiness.
I wish I could return.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
I’m often accused of living in the past. Well, I guess I do. I love reminiscing and remembering the music and all the happy times of my childhood, my boyhood, growing up in Houston. Sure, there were the bad times, but there were moments that will always live on in my memories that were special and precious. I hope this poem conveys that and impacts those that understand.
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