A Day Worth Remembering

It was before that first cigarette,

before the vodka poured, that time

before puberty changed the world

forever. It was before the discovery

that Santa Clause was put in my

mind to please and deceive, when

Christ was crucified every Sunday

at Mass and he would keep hanging

until Easter came or Russia was

converted to Christianity. When

keeping quiet and not crying meant

I was a good boy. It was before my

mother went insane and father

took the blame. It was before we

moved, and I never saw my best

friend, Larry, again. I had a box

filled with Topps baseball cards

when Hank Arron was a rookie,

and Mickey Mantle was MVP. I 
wore a brand new, stiff blue pair

of Wrangler Jeans and black PF

Flyers tennis shoes with white

laces. I recall that day, clear and

cool, sun was shining brightly,

and I held onto the handle bars for

dear life as peddled down Oakland

Avenue with all my might. The front

wheel wobbled a little left, then to

the right. And I rode that red Murray

two-wheeler all by myself without falling

for the very first time. The exact year is

not clear, but that was certainly a day
worth remembering.

Chris Hanch 2-5-19