When I don’t know where to go,

I go back to Galley Street…

to the house Papaw built.

It’s Saturday night, 1980.

Granny is reading

while Papaw

works a crossword puzzle,

so confident

he uses an ink pen.

A train trundles by

on the tracks across the river.

At 10-years-old, I stay up

past my bedtime

on weekend sleepovers

so we can watch our favorite show,

The Love Boat.

Papaw finds the channel.

Granny says, “Turn the sound up.”

None of us has ever

been on a cruise;

but we love Julie and Gopher,

Isaac and Doc,

Captain Stubing and his daughter, Vickie.

Granny comments

on all the guest stars.

She tells us who’s been on what.

We laugh at all the funny parts;

and when the show is over,

Granny says,

“I just hate it when that show ends.”

I agree.

Later, in my cozy bed,

made up on the couch,

tucked under a corduroy crazy quilt

pieced by Papaw’s mother,

I identify

a bit of skirt,

a child’s blue overalls,

a patch of brown slacks,

wales worn nearly smooth.

Through the open door of their tiny room,

I hear their conversational snores…

Papaw’s low grumbling rumbles

answered by Granny’s high whining whistles.

I fall asleep as another train rattles past.

I dream of a cruise

where all problems are solved in the course of an hour.

When I don’t know where to go,

I go back to Galley Street.

A familiar theme song plays

in the background,

“Come aboard.

We’re expecting you.”