The Flamingo

Waiting all year, for just one week,

I can feel the excitement in my stomach while thinking.

All the memories surrounding the same location.

My pink fishing pole and needing my dad's 

strength to reel in a pumpkinseed fish.

The hot pavement sizzling the bottoms of my feet,

 running up to my room to get a life jacket. 

Gliding across the glistening calm water 

screaming at the top of my lungs. 

I never want to leave.

Sunscreen, sunburn and sandy feet. 

Hamburgers and hotdogs—

losing track of time.

Nighttime boat rides and the choppy water.

Being in the middle of the lake with

gray stormy skies approaching. But these 

storms come every year,

so not a single fear enters my mind.

But while growing older I have 

learned that this one week doesn't last forever. 

And maybe I should fear that.