MY ROCHESTER, MY HOME

I’ve lived in Rochester all my life.

So many memories:

Starry night skies and crickets singing their starry night songs.

Juicy pink watermelon picnics with

Golden, toasty marshmallows hot and gooey on the end of a stick.

Huge piles of dry crunchy brown leaves burning at the curb.

Frozen icy ponds and frozen icy toes.

Racing my Daddy down the street — Who thought he’d win?

Riding the bus to work in my green waitress dress, white apron tight

around my waist — off to the Sibley Luncheonette.

Kissing that brown-eyed boy in the high school halls, my heart going
pitter pat.

And going pitter pat as I walked down the aisle, white dress flowing, to meet him.

Long city walks with the kids in the stroller

And searching for our lost cat — Jack O’Lantern, where are you?

As I live and breathe,

As I dance and sing,

As I laugh and cry,

As I love and am loved.

This is my Rochester.

This is my home.

—Diane Rivoli, Greece
Author, dianerivoli.com