August 14, 2012

Trout Dale Inc. by Megan Willoughby

I remember making this drive as a child,
but it seemed longer then.
My Father would lean back in the front seat,
his legs seeming to stretch
across the whole car.
My Mother next to him, flipping through a magazine
or tapping her hand on the window.
My Sister next to me,
boredom filling the backseat.

Now, the freeway interchanges
seem to happen in quick succession
and all the little landmarks
I made as a child
are closer together.
Here is the church,
now the mountain shaped like a pyramid,
now the winding S-curves that urge me to
tap my brakes and
appreciate the view.

I slow and pass the finish line,
the old fish pond with
trout from a nearby hatchery.
Even now it surprises me,
I always expect it to be a place
we never quite reached.

Megan Willoughby is currently studying English at College of the Canyons. She spends most of her time writing in the mountains of Frazier Park. She has been previously published in Eunioa Review, Full of Crow, Yellow Mama, and Writing Raw.

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