What I Enjoyed
By John Herlihy

When I think back to my childhood,
The years of the past roll open like an unraveling scroll.
Memories rooted in the soil of my life long since buried,
I now remember as things that contributed to making me whole.
At the time, they simply made up the artifacts of a glorious adventure;
Little did I know that over the years they would well serve my life’s indenture.

I enjoyed snow in winter
Because on our little dead-end street it was Mother Nature at her best.
I enjoyed the waves of heat in summer;
I later lived much of my life in desert climes surviving at the scorching heat’s behest.
I enjoyed the colorful fallen leaves of the New England autumn,
Because we bunched them in piles in the gutter, then threw them around like confetti.
I enjoyed the rain of springtime,
Because it washed away the chill of winter and flooded the vast plains of the Serengeti.
For that matter, I enjoyed the changing of the seasons;
Each of them offered innumerable delights that differed for many reasons.

I enjoyed the adventure of reading;
It took me into worlds I could never go on my own.
I enjoyed Jack London’s The Call of the Wild, the wolf in me knew that much;
The lure of the Yukon stirred my heart ; its wilderness blessed me with its touch.
I enjoyed Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island,
My first taste of dark violence; my first search for the dead man’s chest of gold.
I enjoyed Samuel Butler’s The Way of All Flesh,
In a burning house, the one book I would save as a treasure never to be burned or sold.
I enjoyed Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth and its quiet simplicity,
Portraying the blessings and hardships of village life halfway around the globe.

I enjoyed the singing of a song;
Its mystery of sound rose from deep with me and struck reverberations in my soul like a gong.
I enjoyed the Holy Roman Empire and the Greek myths too;
History told of fabulous tales of mystery and adventure from Kublai Khan to Katmandu.
I enjoyed foreign languages and their lilting alien sound;
Their mystery of strange meaning and enchantment had a freedom that left me unbound.
I enjoyed being alone and the solitude it provided;
Other children’s ways encroached too closely and I always responded to questions with “maybe.”
I enjoyed privacy and silence;
I am told I never much cried and was considered a happy and contented baby.

I don’t always think back to my childhood;
The unopened scroll lies within me with its memories untold.
Each of them have enriched my adulthood;
Each of them a piece of the puzzle as the fabric of my life began to unfold.
When I am gone, they will accompany me as my treasure into the hereafter;
The tale will be done; but the lingering sound, oh the echo, will be one of laughter.