Let’s go to Nana’s house!

Let’s go to Nana’s and play her piano
I said to my two year old sister
in diapers and baby fat.

Down the hill to Main Street in
Monson where the hitching posts
from a bygone era stood at attention.

A Civil War-era cannon stood
guard at the Monson Town Hall.
Looking both ways at intersections,

I picked up my sister and carried
her across streets. Heavy she was
for my four year old arms.

We made the two mile walk
and arrived at Nana’s. She
was surprised to see us

and looked around for our mother
who was still at home up the hill.
We set Nana’s player piano in motion.

And sang tunes we made up.
Had a great time too until our
mother showed up at Nana’s to fetch us.

Much later I was told how I reassured
my mother that I had looked left and
right before carrying my sister across streets.

When I was older, I learned a big word:
precocious. We walked the two miles
back up the hill. Unscathed by the adventure.

When I close my eyes today, I can see
our house on the hill and Monson and where
Nana lived. Those were the good old days!