My grandparents were beautiful.
They were the ones everyone wanted to have,
but they chose to have only each other.
My father was tough. I slept assured
with a great, woolly dog by the front door
and dad snoring down the hall.
My imagination was robust (and often remarked upon
by the strangers I barked at in grocery stores);
at six, no other skill seemed so vital.
I had a slingshot carved from a tree branch
(which practically made me Dennis the Menace)
until I gave it away to my cousin in a show of loyalty.
I could climb to the very top
of the big pine tree: the ultimate test
of courage, skill and maturity.
Remember this stupid movie?
What were the sources of your strange childhood pride?