chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things

sounds of childhood…

K card by j.i. kleinbergIn the evening, we might hear the garage door creak open or thump closed, but usually it was my father’s whistle — low-high-low — that announced his return as he walked up the sloped driveway along the side of the house. Sometimes he’d add a few extra notes to make a little song of it; more often just those three notes marking a change in the day — my mother drying her hands and walking to the front door to greet him with a kiss, I, coming along the hallway from my room for a hug.

Then the pieces of the evening would tumble into place: his nap, our dinner, cleaning up, retreating to our separate work — woodcarving, reading, homework — then bed. And after the settling creaks of the floorboards, the next thing I’d hear would be my father’s voice, calling softly at my bedroom door to wake me up, his made-up sing-song names — Toodle-Poodle, Schnutzi-Putzi — crooned into the dark until I spoke a word or two to let him know I was awake.

…Those sounds bookending our days, morning and evening, year after year.

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3 responses to “sounds of childhood…

  1. Kimby June 20, 2012 at 3:17 am

    This was such a beautiful synopsis of your childhood and the last sentence took my breath away. Absolutely stellar writing.

  2. jik June 20, 2012 at 7:25 am

    Thank you so much!

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