My Childhood Motels

The sound of highways at night
soft whooshing
in the strange dark.
Great big beds looking
right at the television.
Getting to choose supper
from a menu, and breakfast
always pancakes or waffles.

And the pools, the pools!
The smell of chlorine,
the first plunge a reward
for having gotten this far,
the half hour of splashing
a plenty long time,
then washing off the pool water
in the spiffy bathroom with special soaps
then going out to the restaurant
Daddy picked.

One night late
they were undressing for bed
I caught a glimpse of Mother's breast,
they were talking quietly
and sure we were asleep.
I knew I wasn't supposed to see
and I still remember
exactly what it looked like
pale and startling
and the way the shadows,
the quiet voices soothed.

"This looks okay,"
one of them would say as we pulled in,
and Daddy would go to the office
and come back with a key.

We were always headed for the place
where we could stay a good long while
but in the meantime
there were motels.

Later on Mother
asked me one day
didn't I think I was lucky
never to have had much money
because it meant I had to learn
how to make do and appreciate
things that didn't have pricetags.

Well, no, I didn't think
that was so lucky,
but I never told her so,
or how glad I was
we had all those motels.

Thank you, William, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm participating in a National Poetry Month -- event? challenge? -- which offers a prompt each day and the idea is to write one piece a day for the month. It's calling forth some material I probably wouldn't otherwise write about, which is quite an experience. For this one, the prompt was simply to write about something involving luck or chance or fortune, good or bad. Somehow this was evoked by that idea.

One aspect of this that really intrigues me is that the mood of this piece is so positive in a way, and at least for me as the writer, it carries a great feeling of family cohesion and loving relations.

My experience growing up did include that but it was far from the predominant quality. Somehow, though, the motel memories only include the good stuff and it's as though all the unhappy elements don't even exist, in those rooms.

Thanks very much, Cass, Vernie, and kkbe.

Cass, that bit about your dad made me giggle. So, double thanks, as any laugh these days is worth extra.