Born In Black And White

I remember the little house,
the first of many,
with slowly developing memories
of gradually expanding color.

I know I was born in black and white,
because that was the world I saw
on television.
I knew Buster Brown lived in a shoe
with his dog Tige.
If you put your finger on the red light
at the base of the television set cabinet
you could see the light coming
right through your finger!

My Grandmother in California
sent me a navy blue floral dress
with a small cape. I loved that dress.
I could walk to school.
I liked school... once.

Then we moved to a larger home
in the same city.
We had a small pond that cost me a fingernail
when my brother stepped on a rock,
beneath where I had just placed my hand,
while climbing to look into the pond.
A big green cement frog watched me cry.
My brother laughed.

Ballet! Dancing at the front of the line
while coming onto the stage... an honor!
I had friends and beautiful little black dance slippers.
My mother sewed a small elastic band on them
so they wouldn’t fall off.
I wore them outside into the woods, nearly ruining them.
I loved those dance slippers!

We moved again, just before my recital:
Why couldn’t we stay just a little while longer
... so I could dance?

A new state this time.
Smaller memories.
A cement porch where my father created
a circus high wire for my clown doll.
First Communion...
No color at all!
White dress and veil.
How could I have such a beautiful day...
And not know what it was all about?
But I loved that dress and veil.
Many black and white pictures show
that I must have been happy!

I see a pattern developing...
Little girl dreams, dresses, shoes, glimpses of color.
Why did we keep moving away from my life?
Why couldn’t I catch up to my new life?
When did I begin to run away from life?
What happened to the colors?
Why do I still long for Black and White?

Lora Frikken ~ 3-1-12