Page 8 - Contrast1992Fall
P. 8
The Marks on the Walls Tell Stories
Once you were four-foot-three and all you wanted in the world was to be
big enough to ride the bumper cars and you grew, just like I said you would.
Soon after, the crayon marks were replaced with ink and sometimes even
fists. You weren't always mad at me- -we never truly fought. You just had
so much inside you it was hard to let go but you did and I knew you could.
Now the scribbles that marked your growth have been covered by layers of
paint. The world seems so much bigger now. But you remember being
four-foot-three, the bumper cars, and the time we sat by the stream and you
picked me a buttercup. You remember how we fit- -thank you for not
forgetting.
Jodi Harman
6
