When I think

When I think
about my childhood
I think of
Saturday mornings
and The Super Friends
and three channels
that we changed
with a pair of pliers,
because the knob
had come off
the television
and got lost.

When I think
of my Mom
I think of
tucking in
hugs and kisses
and french toast
for six kids
made with
an entire loaf of
Wonders.

When I think
of my Dad
I think about
the trips down
gravel roads and
Whistle Bridge
and learning to
shoot guns with
open sights.

When I remember my
brothers and sisters
I smile
and recall
freeze tag,
and softball
and all of us playing
together in the yard.

When I think
of you,
when I drink
too much,
I can only recall
the sadness
of losing
you.