Getting to School

Though I remember school days, One thing I can’t recall Is getting to and from each day; My brain has hit a wall. My mother didn’t drive and so She must have walked me there, My dad already gone for work, His daytime presence rare. I try to picture rainy days - Umbrellas, raincoats, boots - Yet somehow what I’m seeing Is a scene my mind refutes. When I was slightly older And my brothers came along, Did we all walk together With my mom? That’s feeling wrong. I guess our memories consist Of more important things, The details not worth keeping In our past rememberings. So likely in the future, My two grandkids will not know That they walked to school with Nana And she loved those Fridays so.