01 02 03 Prone to Wander: Beyond the Windowpane 04 05 15 16 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 31 32 33

Beyond the Windowpane

34

Three nearly black disgustingly ripe bananas have been hanging out on our kitchen counter for days. This evening I took action. By 7 pm, the sweet scent of banana bread filled our home. This comforting scent led me back to my childhood and reminded me of a poem I wrote about being six years old, living in Memphis, being homeschooled, and (with a little envy) watching the kids get off the school bus outside our home. All the while, banana bread was baking in the oven. You want to read it? 


Beyond the Windowpane

On a partly cloudy, not really that hungry day
around three fifteen when the buses screech
and the sweet smell of diesel
overpowers the baking banana bread,
I stare beyond the glass windowpane.           

The sparkly My Little Pony backpacks
carried by blonde princess Barbies
bounce across the same cracks
that I securely filled in with pink and green chalk
an hour earlier.

Excited chatter
fills the streets
and I stare
beyond the windowpane.

“What’s wrong honey?”
Mom asks,
looking up
as she stirs
more bananas
into the batter.
“Can I play outside?” I ask.
She nods and stirs.

From the porch
I grab my camouflaged Goodwill backpack
covered with sequins and
filled with nothing for school.
I sling it and walk.

And trot into step
among the screeching diesel buses
and glittery pink bouncy girls
who are not me and
suddenly—I am hungry
for Mom’s banana bread
which I do not care for,
but at least it is
back beyond the glass window pain.

-Renee Phile 



Back to present, here is the bread I made tonight. As you can see, it wont be around long.




35 36 37 38