Constantly bombarded
By outside sources
A cunning attempt
To create doubt
Are you happy with your appearance?
Wouldn’t you like to be thinner?
Don’t you want to look younger?
If those wrinkles
Around my eyes
And in the corners
Of my mouth
Are tracing the years
Of laughter and tears
Why would I erase them?
If my body is
Telling the story
Of birthing three children
Loving the same man
For more than thirty years
And knowing the grief of loss
Why would I not let it speak?
I am a journey
Of experiences
And emotions
Spilling out
Along the road
For others to see
No apologies
Only grace
Accepted
And shared
Curious
Was I looking at the sky?
Or was it a painting?
Soft brushstrokes
Blues, grays, whites
Perfectly placed
Caused a glitch
In my perception-
Even as the radiance
Of the images
Transformed
My curious smile
Did not want to accept
An answer to my questions-
Sometimes curiosity
For curiosity’s sake
Is more gratifying
Than actually discovering
A logical solution
Was I looking at the sky?
Or was it a painting?
What do you think?
Giddy is not a word I use often. But today, it is the word that chose me. I suppose it fits an about-to-be first-time Gigi. I’ve been doing a countdown. Thirteen days or less! Twelve days or less! Eleven days or less! You get the idea. Probably driving everyone crazy, including the expectant parents.
It’s a different kind of waiting, for obvious reasons, but also because it is brand new. Everything about it. A new life, a new relationship, a new role. And after hearing from the kids today, I could hardly contain my excitement, emotions, and all the above. Probably still a few days out.
While writing this poem yesterday, I thought about childhood and how we sometimes lose wonder and awe in adulthood. Here’s to grandbabies, Gigis, and the gift of curiosity. I am ready to reclaim it!
Simply Sunday
Undeniable
Ask her if
She is strong
Her response
Will follow a
Quizzical look-No
But the truth
Speaks clearly
From the past
Into the present
Instances too many
To list on a page-
On this day
With the sun
Shining brightly
On flower petals
Still wet from
Last night’s rain
These stand out-
Her beautiful
Brave smile
While in recovery
Following
Breast cancer surgery-
Her gracious
Prayer of gratitude
Standing with me
And my brother
Next to Dad’s casket-
Ask me if
She is strong
My response
Will follow an
Undeniable smile-Yes!
She’s my mom!
Happy Mother’s Day! 💐
Shared Tears
Even the warm
Sunshine
Was unable
To keep
The shadow
Of dread away-
Like a dark cloud
Approaching
Warning of storms
Up ahead
While providing
No instructions
For preparation
Or survival
Only questions-
What is about to happen?
How will I respond?
A revelation lifts
The uneasiness
But leaves behind
A sadness
The weight of it
Heavy
Pulling strings
Between souls
Across minor chords
Tension eased only
Through shared tears
My dad’s only living brother, Sam, is not expected to live much longer. I have not seen him in years. And yet, this news brought sadness.
Dad has only been gone a few months. I know the heartache Sam’s loss will bring to others in my family.
Family ties are often stretched and sometimes broken. I’m so thankful Dad and Sam were able to reconnect in recent years. https://pianogirlthoughts.com/2021/04/01/brothers/
Simply Sunday
Digging in the Dirt
As we were planting flowers today, my husband reminded me that I used to be a kid. In other words, it was ok to dig in the dirt. He’s right.
When I was a kid, I loved being outside. Playing kickball, basketball, riding my bike, and digging in the dirt. Only after practicing piano and violin, of course.
Well, I may not enjoy it quite as much as when I was a kid. But, the results are worth the sweat and sore muscles. Especially when we are working together.
Painted Maps
Red clay roots
Must run deep
I can’t think of
Any other reason
For your vibrancy
A fiery reddish orange
Creating community
Wherever you grow-
In some instances
Grouped together
In small bouquets
To mark celebrations
Or remembrances
Most of the time
Woven amongst
Blades of green grass
A colorful lace carpet-
Unafraid to share
Your birthplace
A variety of colors
Dances with you
On the breeze-
Pale pinks
Lovely lilacs
Sunwashed yellows-
Welcomed as part
Of your family-
Imagine I was a bird–
Gliding overhead
Following painted maps
A witness to your beauty
A witness to the power
Of shared roots across
Uncommon ground
Simply Sunday
You Can Call Me…
We are officially on baby watch! Emilia is due May 23. Doctor appointments are happening weekly. The parents-to-be are excited, anxious, and tired. But I have no doubt they are ready.
There is one thing I have not been able to decide. What is this sweet baby going to call me? Gart says he is Papa, easy-peasy. Not so for me.
I have tried on multiple titles in a variety of phrases.
Nana loves you.
I’m so glad to be your Mimi.
Hi, Emilia. Grandma is here.
You get the idea.
Well, the other night I had a dream. A baby was crying. I remember walking up some stairs toward the crying. And right before I woke up, I heard it-Gigi.
Hmmm…I could get used to that. If Emilia approves, that is.
Counting Moments
It seemed so silly. Embarrassing, almost. Crying in front of a perfect stranger. A customer, at that.
He asked about music: music that reminded me of Dad. The songs could have been a playlist from my dad’s eight-track player in his truck. If playlists had been such a thing back then.
He responded with words of understanding. His eyes reassuringly glistened. We talked about how he had played piano when he was younger. Now that he was retired, he might have more time to play.
I encouraged him to continue playing. Even mentioned taking lessons. He left with a registration form in hand.
A chance meeting? Or maybe, just maybe, a moment worth counting.
Fast forward a few weeks. And a now familiar face walked in the door.
Hi, Mike!
Oh, you remember me?
Of course! I told my family how I had cried in front of a perfect stranger at work!
We both smiled. There were no tears this time.
Decided I would like to sign up for those piano lessons. When can we start?
I no longer felt silly or embarrassed. Instead, I held a moment of awe in the middle of my heart, standing in the middle of a music store.
Planting Harmony
Driving down
A two-lane road
Rows and rows
Of sprouting crops
Wrap me in
A soothing hug-
So much has
Happened
Is still happening
Above and below
The Earth to ensure
Their survival…and mine–
Within their embrace
I see logic planted
In harmonic lines
Mathematics
Mixed with music
My heart beats
In the spaces
Between each
Row of green
My soul sings
Sweet and free
Not wanting
This song to end
Simply Sunday
Much of last week felt heavy. Saturday, I was thankful to spend time writing with my friend, Ali. https://flashlightbatteries.blog/ What a treat! I wrote the following poem during our time together. It seemed like the perfect choice for Simply Sunday. Hope you enjoy it! ❤️
Hold My Hand
Where were you in my yesterday?
Where will you be in my tomorrow?
A thought
A smile
A memory
Today, you may
Very well
Hold my hand
And that is
A beautiful thing
Even if only
For a moment
Sometimes
A moment is
All that is needed
To carry us
Into tomorrow-
Where was I in your yesterday?
Where will I be in your tomorrow?
Piano Girl 