The Lady Down the Lane

My childhood memories—some clear, some vague— come to me unexpectedly at times. A scene, a sound, a fragrance brings them back. They weave their way into my simple rhymes. Mrs. Janie was our neighbor. She would smile and speak when I walked by. Her voice was kind and soft, her smile sincere. My memories of her are welcome, sweet, and well-defined. Her grandkids, all my siblings, and I played together in both yards on pleasant days. These times, though, aren’t the major reason why today I still give her the highest praise. One day my mother noticed I seemed scared. I told her I’d been touched in the wrong place. I said Mrs. Janie’s husband did this--once. The shock and anger showed in Mama’s face. Some wives in this position can’t believe such claims. Mrs. Janie did, and she would see he’d not come near me—ever. She expressed concern and aided my recovery. March 24, 2020, entered in Craig Cornish's Lady Down the Lane Contest