Lavender Walls

Lavender walls

Stare at me

Painted a lifeless white,

I swore they were purple.

I try to grasp onto any memory 

That I could think of.

Skinned knees

Band-Aids and ice cream,

The smell of pencil shavings

I can recall it all.

Shoving goatheads into my pockets,

Waiting for our garden carrots to ripen

I remember when we moved out,

Waving goodbye,

When I asked why we were leaving,

I was confused about how 

Our house was too small

For what I knew, the ceilings were pretty high up.

Driving across the country

To stay with relatives until 

Our house was fully finished.

Staring intensely at the windmills,

And endless fields of corn.

Fascinated because there were no mountains in sight.

Just for the summer,

We ate red, white, and blue popsicles,

And tried on my mom's childhood clothes. 

Eating pears and listening to 

Moose tunes for kids,

And dipping our fingers in wax warmers.

Our new house,

The walls weren’t lavender.

Still in the same neighborhood,

Nothing truly changed for me,

Still the same bunk bed

Shared with my little sister.

I still think of those lavender walls,

While looking at my own,

Not knowing how much I truly missed them.