The moving truck I hear the high pitched squeak of brakes from the moving truck I already said my good byes to Ceci She’s left for Flint to stay with her Grandma I need to give Aunt Birdie my goodbye hug She’s gone back to her house to get something for me but I can’t wait I follow her across the alley between our houses stones crunching beneath my feet like quicksand pulling me back I jump over a puddle and reach the gate remember the tag games that my middle brother Jerome and I played before he started acting all teenage like I look toward the alley grass growing between the two tire paths black eyed Susan dandelions and Queen Anne’s Lace Aunt Birdie’s skirt flies up the flower patterns waving like a sailboat caught in the wind I hug hard burying my head on her shoulder I look up and she smiles with the same laugh lines Mama has You go now you’re my brave girl I’ll see you soon
I grab on tighter don’t want to lose this hugging feeling She hands me a change purse that jingles with coins it’s lined with silky fabric inside she has left her phone number and address Gently she pulls my fingers off her skirt like she did when I was young and I wanted to stay at her house longer I’ll try to pretend that the few miles between here and there are small like an inch on a scale map and I will be back to visit but it will never be the same
Jerome and Daddy go first It is four in the afternoon by the time the truck is loaded Jerome’s friends from his baseball team have helped all day They have sweaty backs shirts sticking to them They’re giving each other pats punches and hugs to Jerome and Daddy Daddy offers them each 10 bills that they refuse to take Good bye Mr Johnson they all say Jerome stands on the other side of the street and signals for him to back the truck out of the driveway I ride with Mama I can’t look up or back no time for tears now I promise myself to not wave or turn around and become like Lot’s wife in the bible who turned to salt but I can’t help it We live at the end of the block near busy 7 Mile our block my block I know the cracks in the sidewalk that always catch our skates the tree that I was small enough to hide behind for hide and seek Mr Gregg listening to the Tigers game on the radio and Weiss’s Deli on our corner just between our house and the alley We’re now turning onto Greenfield there’s the cleaners where I go get our ironed sheets Cunningham’s drugstore where Ceci and I pick up super balls and the workers in smocks would slap our hands Two blocks down the Kresge’s Five Dime where we
