going going gone

It's time for the cap and gown


Fuzzy little  head, nestled in my arms
Next to my heart
Such a sweet smell

My thoughts are simply about
keeping him safe, warm, dry and healthy
Wrapping him in a soft blanket
Looking at the tiny finger nails
Still soft from being in liquid
Every part of him is pink
And looks delicate

But I know from having his 2 older sisters
That babies are tougher than they appear

I'm glad I know this, because on our first day home
He scoots himself off our bed
"Thud" I ran to my bedroom
And there he lay
Not making a sound

My heart sank, I thought for sure
something would be broken
Nope, the only thing broken
was my pride

Two days ago he drives over
So he can get his eyes checked
For a new pair of glasses
He comes in the door
Still wearing his work uniform
In a red shirt and blue jeans

He looks taller
And I feel smaller

As I walk this morning
Just after he pulls out of the driveway
I try to think of what a song
would sound like
That expressed how I was feeling

He's going, he's going, he's gone
And I wouldn't have it any other way
He sits on the edge of the nest
And I am nudging him from the soft inside
of the lovely nest
That I made with scraps of flannels
Discarded threads
Pieces of worn blankets
Passed on to me, by my mother

Now, I point to the outside rim
Of the nest
And I tell him to stand up straight
And point his face to the wind
And look at the beautiful blue sky
And the white billowy clouds

So he can jump, and soar in the wind
I look at my baby bird
Who is actually a large male
Taller, and stronger than his mother
Yet needs a little more mothering
Before he takes flight

I will whisper in his ear for a few more weeks
And he will know that I love him
I will pray for him
And I will exhale really hard to create an up draft
As he leans out farther and farther
To carry him on his journey

The nest is almost empty
And I am sad and glad
And proud and eager
But mostly, I am grateful
For this son, that God sent me


He's going, he's going, he's gone

Go Gather Some Firewood

Go Gather Some Firewood

“Go gather some firewood”

I walk into the nearby woods, crunching leaves under my feet 

Looking for sticks

All sizes

Little ones will burn fast and are easy to carry

Medium sized ones will keep the fire going, 

They are fun to spin around like a baton

With coals on the end, we make our own fire show 

Large ones, heavy , so I drag with two hands, making a path in the leaves

The dusk is upon us, and our pile of sticks has grown

We build the fire, squatting, I make a tent like structure

crumble newspaper and light it up

Soon the darkness comes, along with cooler air.

No matter that it is July.

It’s cool.

I find a sweatshirt to put on, and long pants

Back outside, I’m so excited to sit on a log and watch the fire burn

It makes me feel so accomplished

Morning in the creek with cold water, and rocks

Afternoon in the little graveyard

Or a walk to the larger creek.

No agenda

“Let's walk to the bridge.”

Just to see what we can see.

To smell the dirt road, and see the trees

In every season

With green leaves, with colorful ones, or with none at all

“Lets walk to the bridge.”

Along the way, we pick up sticks.

Or stop at the little white church, where the door is always open

We imagine what happens inside, when people are there

I do cartwheels down the aisle, because it is a nice wood floor

We take turns giving speeches at the podium

When we tire of this activity

We continue on the journey

“To the bridge”

We pass by

The Three Bears house

And look for the bear tracks

“None this time.” I say

We get to the bridge

And throw sticks in to watch them go under one side

And come out the other

We go to the water’s edge and look at the rocks

Someone throws a big rock in, to watch it splash

We get wet, and we squeal, not because we are surprised, 

But because the water is so cold.

I start wading in, just to see how long I can stand it

I feel my tennis shoes fill with water

My toes start to go numb but I walk halfway across the creek

It gets deep, almost up to my knees

“I’m going across.” For no other reason than just to see if I can do it.

A self-challenge

Others join me.

We get to the other side, wet and cold

We sit on the bank in the sun

And watch the water sparkle

The colorful rocks at the edge and the patch of silt call to me

I get a small stick and write my name in the sand

I want to leave a part of me there, beside the rocks and the clear water

But the sun is starting to set

And I feel a hunger pain

And a cool breeze comes down the mountain

Telling us it's time to head back

Back to the cabin to eat something tasty that my mom has been cooking

Beef stew, or fried trout my father has caught with Pepa

The food tastes so good.

And the table, so long and shiny, gives me a feeling of home that I don’t feel anywhere else

“Go gather some firewood”

We head outside for the closing event of the day

Thank you Dad

For these memories

For giving us a piece of mother earth

And joy and peace

That I carry with me today

And always.

Measuring Spoons

The bananas are waiting
On my counter

The recipe hangs on my wall
And I have the eggs
And butter
And sugar

Measuring spoons
laying in the dusty cardboard box
That were tossed alongside
empty dried up tupperware

Almost looked discarded
But they were saved,
along with everything else

The boxes, labeled with words scribbled
Didn't contain what was written on the outside
Boxes usually create a sense of surprise
But these boxes were sitting alone
For twenty years

Waiting for something, someone, some perfect time
For us to open them

We sat them on the cold cement floor and began..
One after the other
Each one had a story
And my mind was jerked backwards

It was all going really well
Till I began sorting through this one box
Of various kitchen items
And my hands landed on the measuring spoons
The tiny ring still holding them together

A hundred moments rushed into my mind, my heart
Making cakes, pies, cobblers, dressings, icings, homemade ice cream,
giving medicine, and making stain removers with baking soda and vinegar
And banana bread
I can see her hands holding these dangling spoons
I can see her smiling
And mixing with her electric mixer
that lays in the bottom of this box

I clutch the spoons
And I begin to weep
I miss her so bad
Especially in the fall
When the crisp leaves outside take me back to walks in the woods
Where we simply enjoyed the leaves and the smell of nuts and smoky fires

It all seems so wrong
So broken
For her to not be here
I feel the unnatural end to her life
It wasn't supposed to go this way
She was supposed to be here now
To talk to me about these spoons
Because I have so many questions
The kind you don't even thing of until the person is gone
What was your favorite recipe?
What did you enjoy cooking the most?
What is your favorite food?
Can you show me exactly how to make your blackberry cobber?
Can you tell me your secret to perfect fried chicken?
What did you dream of when you were a little girl?
What was your favorite time of life?
What is your favorite season?


But in all the questions, the one I think of the most, but I dare not ask is this one.
Did you know I loved you?
Did you know that I needed you still?
Did you know that I missed you?
Did you know that I saw how strong you were?
Did you think I didn't care?
Did you know I was going to need you, a lot, in 5 years, 10 years, 20 years?
Why didn't you call me?
I would have come to you.
I would have helped you make a plan to have a good life.

I am so sorry you didn't feel like you could call on me.

I want to hold your spoons and talk to you about life.
But I want to hold you Mom.

I have a heartache today, that is bearing down on me like a heavy load of bricks.
So I am doing what I do to get these bricks off my back.
I take them down, one at a time, and look at them
Describe them.
Each brick has a word on it.
The first one was
"measuring spoons"
And the next  one was
"I loved your measuring spoons"
The others came rushing by so fast, I almost couldn't read what was on them
But they were all covered in tears
And the last one is on the horizon
I am looking for it now.

Some bricks have only one word
Some have sentences
Others just a fingerprint

Hair bow

A tiny plastic pink hair-bow
Lays on the white tiled, cool bathroom floor
She's packed her things
Her creams and shampoos, soap and lotions
She has no towels of her own
So I hand her the blue and purple ones
That used to be in our bathroom
Before the move

The move over here, to a new life for me
And for her

A place where she started to soar, but then sank into
anxiety and depression
So deep that my arms couldn't reach her

Four years have passed and sometimes
I see the little girl with a pink hair bow
And sometimes I see a young woman
Strong and determined, a little scared
But moving forward a small step at a time

I didn't pick up the pink hair bow off the floor today
I want to look at it a few days more

End

Finished
Empty room, bicycle
Flowers, sticks, balls, breakfast is ready
Bath time, clean your room, homework time
Build a fire, toast, coffee, hot tea
Cereal and milk, spread the grits to cool them
watermelon, tanner beach, water park
baseball, running fast, shirtless
outgrown tennis shoes, blonde hair, red cheeks
butterfly kisses, button down shirt for church
Head in my lap, asleep in the car
school visits, do your best, yes you can
court room, heart-racing, man in black robe
Darth Vader speaks the doom
No one believes it
Silence for centuries
A vacuum sucks me out of the world
Peace
Return
Quiet
Blueberries, birds, porch, hot tea, books, friends, warm fire
Alone
God
Mama, where are you?
I see you Mama, you're a butterfly
Hold me Mama
Mary, you know how I feel?
She does
Comfort
Heart ache
More comfort
Heart weak
More comfort
Soft tears
More comfort
Sunrise
Birds sing
Quiet
Flowers bloom
Music
Dance
Paint
Love
Hunger
Love
Companion
Life
Children grow
Let go
Human
Earth gives
Earth takes
God loves
Heart heals
Love grows
Fields blossom
Harvest
Abundance
Gratitude
Life
Reflection
End

I would

I would walk through the briars
Poison Ivy, and Icy Creeks
I would climb over large stumps
Face snakes of all types
Enter a dark cave with no flashlight
I would pick up broken glass
And hold it tight in my hand
I would walk across a bridge with no sides
crossing a deep gorge, with my eyes wide open
I would go inside a burning building
and look in every room, and under every pillow
and rug and pull up the floor piece by piece
to find you
And I would find the strength, to carry you out
of the burning building
I would wash you off, give you oxygen
bind your wounds and hold your hand
till you were ready to let go
Then I would watch you walk towards your destiny
Tall and strong and proud
My son

Heal

A family broken
Comes together, for one who is broken.
We watch her travel the road, a little shaky, but determined.
She stands, and sways a bit, her man beside her
Gently holding her hands.
Reassurance
He will hold her up if she falls
Not a metaphor
Really. He will hold her.
A union of two, became a union of twelve
Maybe thirteen if you count the little ones

One is still missing from the circle.
No one mentions his name.

Families break
Brokenness brings something beautiful
Gratitude
Hope
Forgiveness
Love
Healing
Beauty
Smiles
Laughter

Families Heal
Tears
Hope
Joy
God
Peace
Mercy
Love