Simply Sunday

Forever

Such a strange
Thought
Forever
I’m not sure it’s
Understandable
But certainly
Beautiful
I haven’t seen you in forever!
Spoken with joy
Spoken with regret
Both can fill
The same space
Other times
The word seals
Every hole
In the heart
Despite lack of
Understanding
Will you marry me?
And this is forever…

Received with security
Received with doubts
Both can fill
The same space
Twenty-nine years
Of forever, so far
And I still don’t
Fully understand
But I am grateful
That forever
Continues
To grow


Happy Anniversary To Us! ❤️

What Was I?

A calm voice
Soothes the heart
Like a quiet breeze
Soothes the rose

A harsh voice
Stirs up conflict
Like a strong wind
Stirs up dust

What was I today?

The boisterous wind
Leaving friends
And strangers alike
With dirt in their eyes?

The gentle breeze
Leaving nothing behind
But the faint memory
Of a well-timed smile?

What will I be tomorrow?

The Oklahoma winds are strong this week. A chance of storms in our forecast. The last two afternoons, outside car duty, have left me with dirt in my eyes. That unpleasantness caused me to think of how I react in certain situations. I have a choice to be calm or stormy. Tomorrow, may I lean more toward the first.

Simply Sunday

Old Word Hope

I did not choose a word for the year. One chose me.

I had never heard of this word until yesterday. Not a surprise since it was last used in the 16th century. As I read its definition, it seemed like the perfect choice.

Before I share my word, you need to know its antonym.

Despair-the complete loss or absence of hope.

Though I have felt sadness and grief, I can’t say I have experienced despair. I have witnessed hopelessness. It is not difficult to find. So many challenges over the past couple of years. Such is this life we live.

No more suspense. My word for the year is…

Respair-fresh hope, or recovery from despair.

I am glad it found me! Now to try using it in a sentence. 😉

Here’s to respair in 2022! 🕊

Dear Friends & Family

I continue to be amazed at the connections near and far created through blogging and am grateful for all who take the time to read and reflect. And I have a favor to ask. If you have not already, would you consider purchasing my first poetry collection, If I Were Made of Glass?

Friends, family, and my WordPress community, I am thankful for you! ❤️

Available now on Amazon and at Potter’s Grove Press.

Left Walking

Walking
Hand in hand
First day
To last
One often
Seen as
Enemy
Of the other
Giver vs. taker-
Picture them
Working
Together
One aiding
The body
Along its path
The other
Waiting
To embrace
Spirit, once
The temporary
Gives out
Death
A part of
Life
Not determiner
Of its end-
This journey
Shares its
Insight-
Those
Left walking
Walk with broken hearts

Thinking of all those grieving the loss of someone close.

More

Both familiar
And strange
How can this be?
Blonde hair
Streaks of gray
Blue eyes
Edged with lines
Same smile
Pretty much
My reflection
Is not all
I wish it was
Certain changes
Cause that
Familiar smile
To shrink
Until I look
Intently
Beyond
Temporary
Revealing
What resides
Within
Beauty
And ashes
Alike
Evidence
Of life’s
Experiences
Accumulated-
You are
More than
The reflection
Staring back at you

Two instances led to this reflection. The first one, a photograph. One in which I did not like the way I looked. At least, certain parts of me. The second, a comment from a student. I answered the question, What year were you born? 1967. The response-Then how in the world are you still alive?

That made me laugh. And then it made me smile. There is so much more to this life than how I look on any given day. And though I need to take better care of myself, the unseen will always be more important than the seen. So, in case you have any doubts-You are more! ❤️

Unaware

Stare deep
Not a quick glance
But a look requiring
Thoughtful
Contemplation
Not judgment
Tempted to focus
On those wrinkles as
Merely a sign of age-
Instead, appreciate
Their true origin
Their significance-
For others have
Followed the map
Of experience
Those lines
Lovingly display-
Before walking away
Take one more look
Acknowledge
The bright light
That is your eyes
Knowing it has
Secretly guided
Many, though you
Remained unaware

Things I’ve Missed

How many things
Have I missed
On daily walks
Thru the house
Across parking lots
Up and down
School hallways
I’m certain there
Are others walking
The very same paths
Sometimes I see them-
Really see them
Past the superficial
How are you? I’m fine
But other days
The path becomes
So familiar
I simply stroll
Looking down
Focused only on
The thoughts inside
My own head-
Oh, to not miss again
The things I’ve missed before

Coming & Going

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.

Hearts Breaking

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

First Loss
Album for the Young
Robert Schumann