TWO
tiny feet dig into
a pair of anonymous legs.
Those male legs sit on an endless bench seat
with the babysitter
by our side.
She’s grasping a huge wheel, steering a boat-like car.
Windows down, wind whipping
cooling us with random slaps.
Her blond hair is flying as we float forward.
The man
grasps each of my chubby thighs,
holding me steady,
as we fly along the road.
A wide windshield frames
a bright blue sky,
navy water,
and boiling sand.
My whole body
bursting with freedom and joy.
I am alive!
I land
at the beach with two strangers
on a sweltering Summer day.
**From a series of poems based on memories of my childhood that came to me in the middle of the night during Somatic Experiencing® Training. This, I believe, is one of my earliest memories (when kids weren’t strapped into cars with seat belts!). I recall this experience as pleasant. One aspect is interesting to me because I don’t recall any family yet I felt safe and free and fully alive. The adults (maybe they were teens) feel like strangers.
Memories are tricky. My 4 older siblings would have been lined up along side each other in the back seat of that car. (younger brother hadn’t been born) The babysitter and her boyfriend would have been driving all of us to the beach that summer day.**
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