Growing Up Down South

Growing Up Down South The southern town where I grew up was just like all the rest. Where cousins played and moms dismayed and dads knew what was best. Where you were sometimes badgered for the color of your skin. But no one could remember why it all began. My school was once a residence. The bus ride took an hour. The teachers always made us mind. They had parental given power. My food was cooked by mom or dad, whoever was at home. But we all sat down together. We had an eight party phone. I always had a dog or two. We lived between towns. People would drive out half the way to drop their puppies down. We had a single bathroom, but there never was a line. There were however disagreements during evening TV time. I played outside most every day and fought in many battles. I hunted snakes deep in the woods hoping for a rattle. The woods had squirrel and rabbit that tasted great to me. In summer we ran trot lines, a nighttime river mystery. On Friday I would go help at my grandparents' store. A little work and lots of fun with candy and ice cream galore. Memories are all I have left, but I do not dismay. For if you have a family, you make precious memories every day.