I don’t want to keep secrets
from my parents, but since Mama hasn’t asked
where I go with Timothy every morning
and why,
I’m not keeping a secret,
not really.
Every morning of vacation,
Timothy has knocked at the back door
after his uncle has left.
We go to the garage, and he shows me
how to use the tools for the next step
of my moon box.
Then I do each next step.
He’s teaching me how to saw wood
and hammer and sand,
and reminds me, “Put on your goggles.”
It’s not cheating because I am doing all the work.
When we hear Mr. Dell’s truck chugging up the driveway,
we hide my project
behind a stack of tires in the garage,
and I sneak out the back door.
Each day when I go home,
Mama asks, “Did you have a nice time with Timothy?”
And I say yes, because it’s the truth.
But I still feel like I’m
keeping secrets.