My Earliest Memories, Part 1:

The house on Pert Avenue

We moved out before I turned three

I remember the place cuz it was special to me

I remember our puppy,

A lab black as midnight

We named him Zorro

I remember trying to ride him,

Like a horse

He chewed my toy train

He destroyed my toy train

Such a crushing loss.

That train wasn’t just a toy,

Not to me.

To me it was nostalgia in the making.

Popper made it for me, in his woodworking room

I didn’t know enough words to say what I felt

But I felt that toy was important

That it mattered

The train was a comfort

It was a joy

It was special

It wasn’t plastic

It was one of a kind

I could sense that

And I still sometimes think

How sad I am it’s all

Gone

The house

The train

Zorro

Popper

We moved out, the train was destroyed

Dad gave Zorro away

And popper died

Nothing was permanent

Nothing is

A new dog won’t be the same dog

And

Popper can’t make any new trains

These are gone

And when I am gone, even these memories will disappear

And it will be like these things never existed:

The house

The train

Zorro

Popper

And me