"St. Stephen"

Paula Lehman
9/7/06
St.Stephen

I never remember being poor as a child.
Our trailer was a safe haven
And I never had to be quiet like
Those days we lived in the apartment.
I always thought my dad was a super hero
He would come home, covered in white plaster,
Flakes of concrete in his hair,
His hazel eyes standing out
In his dust-whitened face.
Sweating and tired, muscles aching but shoulders never stooped.
I always ran to give him the first hug.
He would drink a whole gallon
Of sweet tea, right in the doorway.
We watched TV on our tiny screen,
Dad on the couch
And me on the floor by his feet.
Our dinner was simple, designed by mom
To stretch the budget.
Bean soup, hamburger gravy, bread.
I never remember missing candy or sweets.
The outdoors with the water fowl and
Honeysuckle bushes were my playground.
Loons and ducks, whippoorwills.
Tadpoles and crawdads,
Swimming in the hatchery
And watching baby otters.
Clay and water-polished stones
Were my toys.
And little things carried such value
Like trips to the mall or a milkshake.
Maybe other kids remembered me as poor.
I was the only one who wore hand-me-downs,
I was the only one who had never been to
McDonald’s or seen a new movie.
But I was the only one whose dad built
Skyscrapers and found sharks’ teeth
In the clay foundations by the sea.
Whose Mom made amazing
Vegetable soup
And let me help.
Who never had to think about
The latest new toy.
Who could free herself
Outside, away from video games.
I never remember being poor as a child.
I was the wood elf with the father
Who built houses for god.