On Woodlawn Drive the bees blatantly buzzzzz.

Their fuzzy bodies tumbling and twirling, drinking the nectar of the pastel gardens. Silver see through wings beating against the breeze.

On Woodlawn Drive, the air is filled with the spirits of the Native Americans, our trails were originally theirs, until paved. A mucky lake abundant in fish on the east side, a woodland kingdom towards the west, this is where they shall always roam.

On Woodlawn Drive, the air is made easy, light; a soft wafting as if from a candle’s flame. Dogs are walked, bicycles spin for pleasure, vintage cars of candy colors driven, and hopscotches are made by chalk stained little hands. Here, the children desperately chase the music of the ice-cream truck, earn bruises in street hockey, and at night catch the lightning bugs before being summoned home.

On Woodlawn Drive, my dog used to take herself for walks to my father’s dismay. Trotting down the pavement, no one could stop her or her goofy smile while greeting all the neighbors. She always came home within the hour to my father’s crossed arms. With her joyful jumps and poetic presence, nobody could stay mad at her for long. She lived a long life on Woodlawn Drive, now a tree takes root and grows in her memory.

On Woodlawn Drive, the sun’s rays fall as trees provide shelter for the sweet song birds and rascally squirrels. Rain may drip drop and splatter against the asphalt, making it a deeper color. Around the winding bend, a rainbow’s color tails runs ahead.

On Woodlawn Drive, is where I see my own shadows. A little blonde girl blowing butterfly bubbles, later she parks her car for the first time, and then this now woman crosses the drive to receive her college acceptance letter from the mailbox. Today I continue to make more shadows as I walk to the hum of the night frogs from the lakeside and the mournful vocals of the owls from the wooded side.

On Woodlawn Drive, neighbors wave, childhoods are made. As we grow, the concrete grows old itself with cracks like wrinkles, and potholes as blemishes. Yet no sadness is necessary for we are all repaved again. So we may all obtain a chance to walk again upon Woodlawn Drive.

 

Relephant Read:

Forget Everything…& Remember This.

~

Author: Hannah Seelman

Editor: Renee Jahnke

Image:  Matt JP-Flickr