Broken bodies Broken glass Broken hearts So many pieces to pick up Although they may not be my own They clearly lay in front of me Scattered across the landscape Of my city Of my state Of my country Yet, love has not disappeared It continues to weave In and out of even the darkest days Mingling with the broken pieces Mending hearts Mending lives Mending souls Offering flickers of hope Amid feelings of despair Showing us how to begin Picking up the pieces
Sometimes Silence Is not an Option Yet, this day Words Fall Flat And though Emotions Run High Attempts at Expression Feel Numb On this day Notes Speak Loudly Only as Music Plays Softly In this moment It is my Obligation To hear The cries Of tired Hearts Breaking
I left home at the mature age of seventeen and, except for one summer, never came back. My mom often reminds me. 😉
Before college, I had lived in the same house my entire life. I attended the same school, first grade through senior year, and was surrounded by extended family.
And even though I needed to find my own path, the place where I grew up would always be home.
A recent visit with my parents caused me to think about the word home. Especially the idea that home has little to do with the actual place.
As I pulled up in the driveway, my dad was waiting under the carport. Mom came right out as if she’d been listening inside for my car. Soon, we were talking about everything from the kids to work, politics, church. And, of course, the pandemic and quarantine.
As an adult, I enjoy this time alone with my parents. Being there by myself means my only role at that moment is a daughter. Even if this visit brought some adult daughter anxiety.
Due to the current pandemic, I had to be very careful about where I stopped on the four-and-a-half-hour drive from our house to theirs. My parents are over seventy, Mom a breast cancer survivor and Dad with diabetes and kidney disease. Their health is currently good, and I couldn’t bear the thought of exposing them to this virus.
My anxiety quickly faded as Dad asked, “How’s my little girl?” Mom said more than once, “I’m so glad you came.” At face value, simple phrases. Yet, they wrapped me in the love and security I experienced growing up.
When going to visit my parents, I say I am going home. And when it’s time to leave, I use the same phrase. I guess both are true. Home is about the people not the places.
I may have to leave tiny pieces of my heart behind when leaving one, but I know they will be refilled upon arrival at the other. Not the same, but new, and whole.
A sweet paradox, traveling from one home to another. ❤
Green Green Grass of Home by Claude “Curly” Putman, Jr.
Peace and love Words that fit Together seamlessly But sorrow and happiness Don’t belong in The same line Each word needs Its own place Fills its own space Well, that’s how It would be In a perfect world But the truth is This world Is not perfect Honest reflection asks If perfection should Be my goal, anyway? Without deep sorrow Can there be True happiness? No simple answer Only a mystery One I must accept Allowing its truth to Sink way down deep Into my soul Where sorrow And happiness Are woven together An unbreakable seam Holding the fabric of My heart in place
I have so enjoyed participating in Ali Grimshaw’s writing circles. They are a positive time of listening, writing, and responding. I’m excited to have one of my poems shared today on her blog. Check it out along with Ali’s work at flashlightbatteries.blog
As I continue to lead writing circles, I am inspired by the hearts and generous listening of others. Every time I write with others I am changed and lifted by the experience. Here in this space I am calling, Poems from the Circle, I will be sharing poems written by participants of my writing circles. […]
Today is our twenty-seventh wedding anniversary. That sounds like a long time. Over half of my life.
When I started thinking about our anniversary, my mind first went back to the day before our wedding.
Family and friends together, lots of laughter. A simple rehearsal at Rolling Hills Church, dinner at AQ Chicken House, and the final episode of the T.V. series, “Cheers.”
My thoughts quickly moved forward through the wedding, honeymoon, raising three kids, all the places we have lived. It’s amazing how many memories can fill my mind in such a short few minutes. There are so many stories I could share.
But then, my train of thought changed. I didn’t need to write about the past. Nor did I need to think about the future. I only needed to focus on the day at hand. And what it signifies for us both.
This anniversary reminds me that forever is really about commitment. And that commitment has little to do with feelings. It is a promise that runs much deeper.
There is a phrase we often say to each other-You’re stuck with me! Yes, it is spoken in humor, but also carries truth. A truth understood from the day he proposed-this is forever. We are in it for the long haul.
Marriage has shown us our strengths and weaknesses. There is a balance created when we accept those strengths and weaknesses in each other. One would not be the same without the other.
I can’t imagine my life without Gart. Our journey has been quite an adventure. Filled with ups and downs, tears, and lots of laughter.
Here’s to twenty-seven years of marriage. I approach the day with a grateful heart. No worries about yesterday or tomorrow. Only resting in the promise that brought us to today.