Mercury…Venus…Earth...
Reciting names
Of the planets
Sparked curiosity
Field trips to
The planetarium
Came next in
The order of things
Sitting quietly
In the dark space
Stars on the ceiling
Mars…Jupiter...
Even better, clear nights
Lying on the driveway
Watching and waiting
Hoping to spot just one
Star shooting across the sky
I saw one the night my grandma died
Another step in
The order of things
Saturn…Uranus...
A late-night walk-
Kids in tow-
In the middle of
A familiar field
To a wooden platform
Moons of Jupiter
Rings of Saturn
Visible thru the lens
Of my Uncle's telescope-
Ever seen a star cluster? No
Look through the telescope.See that hazy-looking area? Yes
Stare at it-stare through it-
Millions of stars
Instantly in view
Bound to each other by gravity
Neptune…Pluto...
Reciting names
Of the planets
Culminated in staring
At the night sky
Our family
Held together by
The gravity of stars
Anxiously waiting for Family to arrive Coming from what, In my young heart Seemed like a Faraway place- Used to be a short walk Down the hill A knock on the door Hello! Come out and play? Now visits were Few, but precious Filled with late nights Laughter, memories Never enough time Never ready to say Goodbye… I see myself standing at The end of the sidewalk Unable to contain my tears Waving until their faces Drove out of sight- Already anticipating Our next visit
Living in Arkansas and Oklahoma, snowfalls are uncommon. Several years might pass between weather events. They bring a sense of wonder, fuel for the imagination.
Around five inches of snow fell last night in our corner of Oklahoma. Another four to six inches may fall tomorrow night. Of course, wind chills are negative. So, we are enjoying the view from inside our warm home.
As I sat down to write this morning, I wasn’t planning to write about the snow. I planned to follow a familiar writing prompt pattern, which did not include snow. It is funny how one thought leads to another and another. Often with an unexpected result.
Writing out my list of words from the prompt, one stood out-sheep. Sheep turned to lamb turned to white turned to snow. And the progression of thoughts became a poem. While writing, an image kept coming to mind. It was a stuffed animal lamb. When you turn its silver key, music plays.
This particular lamb rests happily on a shelf at my parents’ house. It was mine when I was a baby. A quick text to my mom, and I had several photos of my cherished lamb. As you can see, this lamb was well-loved and is no longer white like the snow. But I am glad its sweet face appeared in my memory today.
Tranquility
Ground covered In fluffy white Like an innocent lamb Precious and new Quiet cries quickly Comforted by mother Pink belly once again Rising and falling In perfect sleep No fear of today No worry about Tomorrow Only tranquility in The fluffy white- Tranquility in A blanket of snow
The mountain comes into view, As I drive across the river bridge. A drive I’d love to take today. To me, a majestic outline, though Small in comparison to other mountains Barely high enough to garner the name
Hiking to its peak as a child was Like standing on top of the world Peering out over tops of trees Roads, cars, and houses below Appearing as toys in a tiny Land of make-believe
Was home really as small as it appeared?
Time for exploring always Ended too quickly-never enough Time to stand on the edge. But laughter followed as we Made our way down the steep trail Into the green valley below
The world again at eye-level My head forever in the clouds
My parents rocked me when I was a baby. They sang lullabies, read stories. Made sure I was cared for. I grew up around babies-younger cousins and my brother. I rocked, fed, sang, and played with them. The example had been set for me. When I had my own children, I knew what to do, or at least, where to begin.
Not everyone has that experience. And some that do become so bombarded with the struggles of this life, they forget what is vital. When this happens, the next generation suffers.
Little brains and bodies don’t develop as they should. Gaps are created in connecting, learning, functioning. I see the results of these holes in growth every day. Improvement is possible, but it takes time and focused intention.
And then there are those days…brief moments of light shine through. A smile, a hug, a lightbulb turning on. The reason may not always be clear, but the result is cherished. I wrote the following poem after one of those days.
Holding on to the hope for more like it in the future. ❤
TOOTHY GRIN
The first time I saw you My only thought- Do you ever smile? Not even a hint In your distant Young eyes And then one day A toothy grin Shone through Your tough shell Brief and unsure But sweetly present Reminding me That you are A child in need of Reasons to smile Hoping another Reason will find You again soon Turning that Toothy grin into A beaming smile- Lasting and confident
It has been years since I have flown a kite. I remember many experiences as a kid, a parent, and even a teacher. Each one brought a different level of wonder. Running and watching with excitement as my kite took flight. Watching the excitement on the face of a child having the same experience.
Just picture it! See the kite itself, whipping in the wind, freely flying, having the time of its life. See the person standing firmly on the ground, holding the handle, making it all possible.
The person holds the handle tightly, releasing string at just the right amount at just the right time. Working hard while also enjoying the freedom displayed by the kite.
One time my cousin, Jimmy, and I were flying a kite. It was the perfect day. We held that handle so tight, guiding the kite as it traveled up to the clouds. Such a fun memory!
Until…the kite string, not tied to the handle, ran out. Our kite went on quite a journey! We watched until it flew out of sight, never to be seen again.
I suppose parenting is a bit like flying that kite. I held the kite string firm as my children grew and pulled away. My job was to guide, gradually giving more and more freedom. I was really just preparing to let them go all along.
There is one big difference. The kids often circle back and wave hello. Exactly how it should be. ❤
These ideas have been floating around in my head for a while. Since my youngest son, Ryan, turns twenty tomorrow, it seemed like an appropriate time to share. Happy Birthday, Ryan! 🙂 We love you!
This Labor Day weekend, I am looking forward to an extra day of rest following the two first weeks of school. I need to relax and take care of myself. Part of that care includes time with family.
That is one of my first thoughts when it comes to holidays-who is coming and who is going.
This time, Gart and I are staying put. Though not always the case, a welcomed choice this weekend. Even after our recent extended time here, we need to be home. Sleep in our own bed, sit outside in our own backyard…welcoming the ones who are coming.
On this Saturday morning, the house is quiet. Our youngest, the last one at home, is at a friend’s. Our daughter, who recently moved out, is traveling. Our oldest and his wife will be here this afternoon.
Witnessing my kids at this age causes me to reflect on my own younger days. Days when I was the one always coming and going. Days when my Mom and Dad were the ones staying put.
It’s a funny thing, seeing myself through my parents’ eyes. Waiting patiently to hear about a friend, that recent trip, or to actually be together in person.
These are the moments that remind of the beauty of life-moments of growth and understanding. Realizing what a privilege it is to be the one staying put. To be the one watching and waiting, experiencing all the comings and goings from my front door.
The wind blows A sturdy tree Leaves dance Branches wave As if to say, Come with me! Like a mom Calling to her child Run to me! I will catch you The wind will Carry us away
Where will it take us? I do not know But we will go together Our very own adventure How long will we be gone? I do not know Only time will tell Minutes, hours, days One thing is certain Each journey will Stay with us For a lifetime
As the steadfast tree Continues to call Waving branches And dancing leaves Waiting to embrace And carry me away I also stand With open arms Ready to embrace you To share another journey Wherever the wind Carries us…always
For Robert & Erin, Rachel, and Ryan~The reasons I love being a mom. ❤
My dad loves classic country music. Growing up, we would always listen to The Grand Ole Opry on AM radio, static and all. Sometimes, it would drive me crazy but thinking about it now makes me smile.
He also had quite a collection of 8 track tapes, all country, that we would listen to in his truck. Charlie Pride, Charlie Rich, Loretta Lynn, and Conway Twitty were some of his favorites. And though I don’t currently listen much to country music, I loved listening to it back then.
That love stemmed from two things. First, it was, and still is, great music. But more importantly, it was my dad’s music. And for that reason, it will continue to influence my life.
Music has so much variety, so many genres. Each new style influenced by the previous. Whether I like them all or not, I can appreciate them for their place in music history.
I have recently shared some recordings of myself playing favorites on the piano. They’ve included some Classical Scarlatti, Romantic Brahms, hymns and James Taylor. Honestly, no country songs crossed my mind…until now.
My mom called after listening to my latest recording. We chatted for a few minutes. As we were about to say goodbye, I could hear my dad in the background. My mom chuckled and said, “Dad says you need to record his favorite song.”
So, what is his favorite song? It is a piano solo recorded by country musician Floyd Cramer in 1960. If my dad ever has a music request for me, it is that song. I learned to play it years ago.
Why had I not thought to record this song already? I do not know.
Remembering Simpler times Long days When a bike ride Meant singing In full voice Unaware of Quiet melodies From birds Hiding in tall Shade trees that Lined the path A time when Playing outside Included music Blaring from a Spirit of ’76 Transistor radio The perfect Soundtrack for my Nine-year-old life Remembering Simpler times Long days Memories that Surely fade As years pass-Now, Written down to Bring a smile Before I forget
