My childhood was not wild and poppin’ Our entire worlds were within the walls of the house And the grotty plastic and breezeblock of our school That will exist permanently in early 2000s
Despite being a child of the 60s When parents let their kids run free And only beckoned them back For hot tea at five on the dot My mum was afraid And untrustworthy Of this modern world
I didn’t ride a rollercoaster until I was eleven On a school trip where I was temporarily let off the leash. I was told extensively at the time That that was very weird. Was I Amish? A freak? All my bony kneed, pre-teen friends Had grown up on Butlin’s Holidays And the like.
Butlin’s! my mother would scoff. How un-esoteric!
At the time I was jealous Unbearably so
Why can’t my life be wild and poppin’? I’d ask myself, already feeling left behind at such a tender age. In 2007 my definition of poppin’ Was defined as going to the park alone And eating cotton candy, The forbidden food!
Now I don’t mind my quiet memories They’re simple and unclouded Pure and nostalgic in a way I don’t think whirling lights and Rollercoasters could be
Maybe it was 2003. And we had happened upon an old-fashioned carnival and to my amazement my mum said ‘let’s go in’ In her mind it was Wholesome, not tacky And fun, not overwhelming, Everything she wanted our childhood to be
When people are gone And memories can’t be made anymore We treasure the simplest of things
Like sitting in my mum’s lap and whirling down an old helter skelter painted bright red and white. Screaming with glee, And thinking, for a five-year-old My simple, sheltered life was pretty wild and poppin’
Morgana Moore is a UK-based short fiction writer interested in speculative fiction, the oddities of the human experience, and identity. She is the creator of @fatcatmagazine where she publishes flash fiction submissions online. To keep up to date with her work, you can find her on Twitter where she occasionally Tweets @morgana_moore.