Fifteen...

Fifteen
William Stafford

South of the Bridge on Seventeenth

I found back of the willows one summer

day a motorcycle with engine running

as it lay on its side, ticking over

slowly in the high grass. I was fifteen.

I admired all that pulsing gleam, the

shiny flanks, the demure headlights

fringed where it lay; I led it gently

to the road and stood with that

companion, ready and friendly. I was fifteen.

We could find the end of a road, meet

the sky on out Seventeenth. I thought about

hills, and patting the handle got back a

confident opinion. On the bridge we indulged

a forward feeling, a tremble. I was fifteen.

Thinking, back farther in the grass I found

the owner, just coming to, where he had flipped

over the rail. He had blood on his hand, was pale—

I helped him walk to his machine. He ran his hand

over it, called me a good man, roared away.

I stood there, fifteen.

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Do you remember being fifteen? When marriage and weddings seemed so far away? A time when you felt awkward just taking a shower...LOL. I'm always talking about time slipping away and I have a 15 year old that I just can't get enough of...She is in this awkward stage...not a girl, not yet a woman...but such a lady.

Aside from the craziness that is this age, she is so grounded and, might I add, perfect...LOL. I have to thank her Dad for some of this, but she was different from the beginning. I watch her with her little sister and have to turn my head so that she does not see me cry (like I am right now just thinking about it...LOL). I am so happy when my girls are around and I love them the same, but differently...but I have so much faith in Catarina. She really is a godsend. Something great awaits her, and I enjoy watching her change...while we wait.

15,14,13,12,11...and so on. I hope you will stick with me.