My sister not long ago suggested <br />that we rent a car and make a visit <br />to the house where we grew up. <br /> <br />At first I liked the idea, <br />but as the time for departure drew closer, <br />I begin to feel a strange reluctance, <br />whenever the trip came up. <br /> <br />Something eerily white, like light, <br />something made of wood, yes, <br />chairs on a lawn, Adirondack chairs <br />painted white with tall glasses of iced tea <br />resting on the wide-open arms, <br />etched themselves in the populated <br />areas of my mind <br />and would not leave. <br /> <br />Then the cause of my consternation <br />revealed itself: I needed the chairs <br />who would not leave to stay. <br />If I went back to the magical lawns <br />and the familiar days of my childhood <br />and the Adirondak chairs were gone <br />(which after so many years they surely are) , <br />the loss would be too much. <br /> <br />I had my sister (long accustomed to my fickle whims) <br />cancel the rental car. <br /> <br />So, somewhere in the tangle <br />of memories, as distorted and inaccurate as they may be, <br />my family still sits with our cool iced tea <br />laughing, oblivious of the future, <br />snatched from time like a photograph, <br />framed forever in my remembrance.<br /><br />Sonny Rainshine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tale-of-the-white-adirondack-chairs/
