August 2007 Archives

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August 24, 2007

Where I'm From

The first assignment for my Context in Cultures class at Meredith was for me to write a poem called "Where I'm From" based on the poem by by George Ella Lyon. Here's what I came up with:

I am from shoes, the soles of my fathers
I am from Florsheim, crafted by reputation and stitch,
sold with service and a smile.
I am from the marigolds I planted near the back door
I am from the garden, brimming with vegetables,
the Christmas trees we planted in the side yard
and the secret tulip garden I planted near the fort in the woods
I'm from Dortches and family reunions with
covered-dish suppers, cousins and a pick-up game of softball
from Cora and Roscoe.
I'm from the wise and outspoken
From the dirt poor farmer's daughter and the books
From pen on paper and colors outside of the line
I'm from Durham,
macaroni and cheese and red-eye gravy
From the moment at the Old Well
to the long arms of my grandfather
that reached out to grab me as I tried to run past
to the tears my mother cried that grew my soul
In a chest full of needles and thread
is the scent of my grandmother
captured forever in the entangled ribbons and string
the memory of her strong and delicate hands
forever creating
Ivory keys hold melodies that captured a piece of me
when I was looking the other way
songs that have become the musical score of my life
A scrapbook full of yellowing memories
placed on a shelf that holds frames of five generations
full of smiles and hope
slowly transformed to withstand the test of time
I am from all these moments, and more.

August 16, 2007

Having thoughts

As I was lying in bed last night, trying to clear my head of the goings on of the day and settle into a good night's sleep, my mind suddenly focused on an image of my son lying next to me in bed when he was about 18 months old. He was a particularly sweet baby and always was affectionate and playful with me. I remember pulling out my camera and snapping a picture of him lying there, his tiny little legs bathed in sunlight. He had the widest smile on his face, a smile that reaches into my heart and tugs on a few heartstrings every time I see it.

I realized last night that I miss those tender moments of his youth. Childhood is so precious and so fleeting. My heart aches when I think about how he was the one who made me a parent and helped me grow and mature into motherhood. I miss those times and find that sometimes I'm a bit sad that I'll never experience them again. At the same time, I look forward to other stages of his life and continuing to be his mother as he grows and matures.

So I'm just having thoughts. And that's okay for now.

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