Getting to School

Though I remember school days,

One thing I can’t recall

Is getting to and from each day;

My brain has hit a wall.

My mother didn’t drive and so

She must have walked me there,

My dad already gone for work,

His daytime presence rare.

I try to picture rainy days -

Umbrellas, raincoats, boots -

Yet somehow what I’m seeing

Is a scene my mind refutes.

When I was slightly older

And my brothers came along,

Did we all walk together

With my mom? That’s feeling wrong.

I guess our memories consist

Of more important things, 

The details not worth keeping

In our past rememberings.

So likely in the future,

My two grandkids will not know

That they walked to school with Nana

And she loved those Fridays so.