The little ticks on the side the wooden frame of my door

Showing the evidence that I indeed have grown

Unfortunately, just not past five eight

That groove on thicker than the others from hopeful updates.

Pulling up on the sidewalk

Where my dad learned to let go

When I learned to ride a bike

And made the mistake

Of forgetting how to use the brakes.

Greeting the backyard,

In the days of tire-swings and fireflies,

My mom calling me in for the night,

And trying not to crack a smile,

Watching me swing in delight.

Coming home in tightly packed car

And rediscovering these nuggets of memories

That made me who I am today

From the days so far away.