I See Guthrie Center First – a Poem

I See Guthrie Center First
The two-toned Chevy kicks up dust
toward Highway 6, back in those day,
and heads west through Stuart
and under the “whee bridge,” also known as
the old railroad bridge,
to the Highway 25 cutoff.
We coast to the stop sign,
looking straight ahead
to an awesome dirt road.
But we head right, taking
forever and ever to get to
Grandma’s house.
We finally pass the sign to Monteith
before the only curve on this
forever road, bored in the back seat
with little sister Gloria,
behind Dad smoking his Camel
and Mom in a nice dress.
How much longer? Soon,
just over the hill.
I see Guthrie Center first!
Small homes pepper the hill
announcing our favorite town
because Grandma Leora lives there.
I saw it first, Dad insists, I just forgot to say so.
No fair, I pout. Won’t be long now.
The Chevy crosses the river and
the train tracks, and on up to the stop sign.
To the left, downtown lines both sides of
Highway 44, which slopes to the town park.
We continue northward, watching left
between the houses. I see Grandma’s house first!
Always a contest, just before turning
left up Ordway, then left onto North 4th.
Grandma’s little house is second
on the right.
Her glowing white hair appears on the porch,
with her delighted grin. I see Grandma first!
We spill out of the Chevy for hugs and pats
and the most wonderful winsomeness of
being with Grandma Leora,
no matter who got to see her first.

9 comments

  1. Lovely poem and it brought back a childhood memory for me. I see the jones Beach tower first 🙂 Whenever we drove to the beach (long Island N.Y.) it was a game to see who saw the tower first – ty for the memory

  2. A lovely childhood memory!! My version was the drive with my parents and my little brother through South Portland, Maine to get to my grandparents’ summer cottage overlooking Hannaford Cove in Cape Elizabeth. Who would be the first to smell that kelpy salt air?

  3. I love this story of going to grandma’s house! We visited family so seldom I don’t have a comparable memory. But my Grandma Halse’s house was always a very special place to me.

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