The scent of jasmine on the trail
brings me back to the window seat
in my bedroom on Napoli Drive.
It’s funny how nostalgia creeps in
just when I need most to remember.
Sitting on the front porch with Dad
and picking strawberries
for our homemade ice cream.
A little boy who brought me a flower
on the day of our grandpa’s funeral.
Making a waterslide with a garden hose
and an inflatable pool,
then sending my sister down to test it.
Taking batting practice
with tennis balls and seeing how many
we could hit over the roof.
Putting on shows with friends
to the soundtracks
of Cats and Starlight Express.
I know it wasn’t all the stuff
of sitcoms and musicals,
but that’s not how my memory works.
The memories smell sweet today,
just like the jasmine.