This Place

by Megan Ulman

As we drive in our little red car, streams of blue sky and green trees fly past my face.

I know this place.

This place smells fresh and familiar.

This place tastes like Mexican food from Elsa’s, and doughnuts from Bill’s.

The sounds that fill this place are the sounds of cars honking, and birds singing.

Birds like Robins and Cardinals.

I know this place.

There are birds everywhere in this place.

Birds and squirrels.

Squirrels of brown, grey, and white.

I know this place.

As we drive in our little red car, closer, and closer,

I remember the familiar locations I’ve known for all of my life.

The old church on Far Hills. The old house on Estates Drive.

That street, led to the old school.

I know this place.

The memories that fill my head of this place seem distant.

Like memories from long ago.

Yes.

I know this place.