Still Hungry

From start to finish today my sister and I walked the woods. We mimicked the wildlife and crossed the creek. We told stories in the sunlight and shade and peeped at the birds. Thirty years ago these same birds' ancestors ate from our hands. Today we scattered seeds on the bare ground and watched the bickering birds convening with one track minds. We walked back in time and shared giggles at things we'd fought over - like the biggest piece of pie and who sat next to dad in the car, important things like George Waldencott. Tears flowed from our eyes recalling a chipped tooth and broken arm, burns from cigarettes we'd hid in these woods - a few of the scars from fights for the rights, rights of the other. Our lunches eaten, our lemonade thermos emptied too fast, still hungry for mem'ries of days long past. She sneaked a cookie from its hiding place in her shirt pocket. She took off running, holding it high in the air, looking back and yelling her dare, "Nana, nana, na - na!" Racing t'wards home we climbed the garden wall and split the cookie. And at last she spoke words I had ached to hear since their wedding - "Thank you, Cissy, for letting me have George." She went home with hubby and three children. I went home, just me. 6/10/13