Down the Hall from My Room

Down the hall from my room, there’s a guest room

with a bed, a dresser and a wall

full of black-and-white pictures.

There’s me as a little baby

in Mom’s arms with Daddy looking on, his grin so wide,

my mom says it looks like he ate the moon and it

came shining back out.

There’s Daddy in his football uniform, down on one knee,

his helmet in his hand, looking straight at the camera

all serious

like he wants to get the picture over with already

and get in the game.

Another one of his team—Uncle Joe and Uncle Eddy, and another player everybody just called Slide.

Cuz he never ran across the field, Daddy said.

He just slid his way past other players and slid

into every single touchdown.

There’s a picture of Mom and Dad that I took, looking up at them.

Giants smiling down at the camera.

That’s my favorite, my mom says, appearing beside me.

Then we’re standing in front of all the pictures, her holding my hand.

I know mostly I’m too old to be standing in a guest room with my mom holding my hand.

But sometimes, I’m not.

Sometimes, this is just a beautiful moment,

me and Mom in the quiet house with

all these before pictures looking back at us

reminding us there was another time.

Look at you there, my mom says, laughing.

In the picture, I’m climbing behind the couch,

and all you can see is half my body, a chocolate cookie in my hand.

You thought you were slick, my mom says.

You thought you could hide. And even though I caught you

on camera, you still swore it wasn’t your hand.

It wasn’t, I say, smiling up at her.

That was some other kid. That doesn’t even look

like my hand!

I say this same thing every time.

And every single time,

my mom just starts cracking up like

it’s the first time she’s hearing it.

A Future with Me in It

At both grandmas’ houses

there are also rows and rows of photos

of me. Kindergarten with my

two front teeth missing.

Second grade with me, Darry, Daniel and Ollie

all in the same class—Ollie sitting down on the floor

with the other little kids because he hadn’t gotten tall

yet.

There are pictures of me with my dad, my mom,

the whole family, even the grandmas and my auntie

at a castle in Spain. Pictures of me with water wings

and me without them when I finally learned

how to swim.

And each year, some more pictures get added,

my mom finding the perfect frame, and me

a little taller and hopefully with a better haircut

going up on the wall.

And I bet that one day, when I’m all grown

and in my own house,