Which holds more power?
A solitary word
Simple phrase
Image viewed
Likeness stored
Each one can
Wash over me
In a single sliver
Leaving its imprint
A curious question
Lingering ache
Quiet smile
Hopeful sigh
Perhaps the power
Does not lie
With the singular
But instead
In the progression
One word leads
To a memory
One phrase, and
A new image emerges
Tears flowing
Stories shared
Prayers spoken
Hearts healed
We closely watched
As our children grew
Each part of us
Each their own
A continuation
Of family trees
With roots and branches
You and I will never know-
We’ve heard stories of
Transplanted roots
Broken branches
Colorful leaves
We’ve watched
More than once
As one season ended
And a new one began
Love and joy seeded
Along with pain
And heartache-
Seems strange
Speaking of them
In the same breath
Yet, here they are
Wise falling leaf
Innocent Spring bud
Quietly encouraging me
To embrace this current season-
Do not look too far ahead.
Do not look too far behind.
Do not hang on so tight,
That you miss
The peaceful wind
Blowing thru your hair.
Sweetly swaddled
Snuggled in tight
Outside noises
Muffled
To protect
Tiny ears
Eyes remain
Sheltered
From the
Bright sun
Not yet ready
To greet this world
Until suddenly
Both protected
And protector
Are thrown into
A realm full of
New sounds
New feelings
New sensations
Why should we
Expect anything
Less than tears
And awe
And wonder
Once again, I am thinking about this life and its comparisons with butterflies. We often focus on the result. A beautiful new life in living color, floating thru the air. But we immediately forget the struggle required to get there.
Exactly one week ago, we met our sweet granddaughter. It was about an hour after she was born. Her feelings concerning the previous few hours were clear. Her cry was strong and sweet, heartbreaking and reassuring.
A couple hours later, the grandparents were ready to hold her. She was swaddled tight and sleeping. The only problem occurred when it was someone else’s turn. She would start crying every time there was a shift.
How dare you hand me over to someone else! I was comfy and just beginning to like you!
I had not given prolonged thought to the shock mamas and babies experience. And then I saw it from Gigi’s point of view-not dwelling, simply acknowledging. 💗
Coming and going
Moving from one
Instant to the next
While stopping to
Revisit the past-
Those pauses
Graciously offering
A new perspective
For a new season-
A young mom
Grateful for time
With her mom
A grandmother
Knowing it’s time
For her to go home
Remembering
What it was like
To be the first
Learning
What it is like
To be the later
Imagining
How my mom
Must have felt
Understanding
More clearly
The connections
Between mamas
And babies
And grandmas
And each moment
Spent together-
Priceless!
Simply hearing
You arrived safely
And every ounce
Of worry disappeared
Simply seeing
Your sweet face
And my heart
Filled to overflowing-
I am convinced
Our capacity
To love grows
Exponentially
With the birth
Of a child
And when that baby
Is a grandchild-
Well, I will keep
Searching for words
And let you know-
It’s going to be an adventure! 💗
I used to find the idea of regularly visiting a cemetery puzzling. Not in a disrespectful way. My thought was-Well, I know they are not there.
Today, Mom sent me a photo of Dad’s newly installed headstone. I’m beginning to understand the pull.
As I looked at the design, zooming in on details, I saw the story. Names and dates that represent what was and what continues. Birth, marriage, death-pieces of a beautiful puzzle. A puzzle to which I also belong.
I hope to visit soon. 💙
Stories etched
In granite gray
Beginnings
And endings
Bordered by
And filled in
With love
And hope
A serene spot
Shaped for
The kind of
Remembering
That leads
To living
As I walk into
The clearing
Time slowly rewinds
The rises and falls
In this small plot of
Gently rolling land
Are interrupted by
A quiet stream
And perfectly placed oaks
A perimeter of pines
Provides a freedom
Not easily found
In the outside world
Freedom taken for granted
Until life allows for
Both leaving
And returning-
As I walk down
That familiar road
Still shaded by trees
The whispers
Of many childhoods
Are carried on the breeze-
There you are!
We are so glad to see you again.
Won’t you come and play?
Waiting on the arrival of sweet Emilia has me reflecting on many things- my own childhood, the childhoods of our children, the continuing seasons of parenting, and now becoming a grandparent. I am looking forward to once again seeing life in a new light.
Ok, Emilia. We are all ready to meet you! 💗
What does thirty years mean to you? If we look at it in terms of math-10,950 days, 262,800 hours, and 15,768,000 minutes. And yes, I did the math. Just don’t ask me to show my work! And while those huge numbers give a little sense of the time that has passed, they don’t quite do justice.
For me, a lot of ground has been covered in thirty years. It began with what I like to call a rescue. My life was a mess when I met Gart. I suppose he could say the same. But he found me, and that was that.
We were both ready for a commitment. That decision covered seven cities, one apartment, and seven houses. It also brought new jobs and a long list of friends.
What result are we most proud of? Three grown children and one beautiful daughter-in-law. Each of them is their own person. Each with their own gifts. Each holds kindness and the ability to accept others where they are.
Well, tomorrow is our official thirty-year anniversary. It is also the day before our first granddaughter’s due date. How appropriate. The beginning of year thirty will be celebrated while waiting on the birth of this new little person we already love.
Happy Anniversary to us! ❤
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
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!
Piano Girl 