Painted Driveway

My crepe myrtle trees have grown into maturity under my every-watching eyes. I planted them years ago as little colorful sprigs and watered them daily to ensure their survival in the hot summers of the South.

I spaced them for the future… for now. I watched their limbs grow toward the sun. I watched the thin bark pull from the trunks and fall in lacy patterns under my fingertips. I pruned the errant branches that worked their way in the wrong direction.

My little trees line both sides of my driveway and have finally grown together in a hand holding canopy. The trunks are thick and smooth and bare the marks of climbing cats and squirrels. They have survived the heaviness of cold winters and the torrents of rain in the springs and summers.

The heat of the summer brings afternoon showers of temporary relief. They leave behind the memories of seasons past and the heavy humidity that can be seen and felt in the lungs. The heavy drops of rain drive the tender petals of the crepe myrtle to the ground and blanket the brick and concrete like a pink powdery snow…

This is what I thought it would look and feel like when I pulled at the rich soil so many years ago. This is what I wanted to see in the summer… a summer in my life with the eyes and imagination of a boy… a boy with a painted driveway.

                                                            Shannon R Killman