You Had to Be There

You Had to Be There

Noah Thomas

Is this the place I fell in love with birds?
The Afghan and the family inside and the cold weather and waking up
And the creek and the swing warm with my skin
And the smell of the winter

Or was it here far away? Older on the balcony
The smell of smoke stains from the tenants before
Wafted in with the soft touch of wave sounds
And hot sandy air from a new sun that has nowhere else to go
Sitting back against that net all morning until my words make no more sense
And all I can do is eat bacon with my grandma

We could always try Christmas morning
Surrounded by my happy family
Two cinnamon rolls in my lap
A little tower of treasures guarded by my dragon dad
Reading out of something old and important
Something sacred

After all, what else could make those cinnamon rolls taste so good?
If I knew my mom made them
And I knew she loved me?
And I knew what that love was, perhaps
Like another taste
At Meme’s house
Sitting down with monster pancakes
That sweet sweet lady with hands that can’t help but to be holding you

Sacred on the lake, for sure, out on the deck with the
Waspspsps
And Cocoa Beach, for sure
And Georgia, on the river
The creek it was

Wherever water flew
I was probably under it, beside it
Lying down not quite asleep
Not quite awake

Holding on to whatever was making
That moment beautiful

Holding on now to my sleeping wife
Holding on to what makes her
So beautiful

I wish I could draw a picture
Or say the word
But it’s somewhere in those moments
You had to be there

---

Noah Thomas
Counselor & Rebel

Noah writes poems for his local religious community. He is a student of mental health counseling at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. You can read more of his work at storiesbynoahthomas.com.

Photography by Riley Digs