You build it together. A new outdoor space for Entertaining, play and peace. You build it with sweat, aching backs Even a little bit of blood and a few Tears of Frustration.
When it is done, though, there is Accomplishment, Satisfaction, and Exhaustion. But that is not even the beginning. As it turns out, you created so much more.
It is an oasis on a troubled day. A fortress, ready with turrets and A lookout post. It is a spacecraft, hovering over Strange people and worlds. It is no longer a layer of bricks. It is a time machine taking you to Fascinating places filled with Adventures just waiting to be explored.
This place, this simple patio, becomes Solace and hope during a complicated time. And as the smile on your son’s face brightens With imagination, it lights up your world.
Then, when the storms roll in and We scramble to put things away, and The wind kicks up, A patio it becomes again, Until another day, when imagination reigns and The possibilities take flight.
Your soft breath tickles my faces As I lay here listening. Each quiet breath a joy In its simple necessity, Just laying here in the dark. In and out, And with each breath The love in my heart expands. I lay here and marvel in it, Take solace in it– Find peace. And you, my sweet boy, All warm with sleep, Just breathe.
Today when my child came home from school I turned off the TV and The unending reports of scared children after yet another shooting. He curled up on my lap and didn’t notice the sudden lack of news. Instead, he hugged me tight and told me of his day.
He hugged me tight, not knowing how much I needed His small yet strong little arms wrapped up in mine His wonderful, animated face full of love and excitement. He talked of future days in school And I grasped that thread of hope and clung to it; I clung so tight that I hugged him again and thought not for the First time—
I am not ready.
I am not prepared to talk to this precious child About the realities of life. I am not yet able to formulate the words that Someday will fray the edges of the safe blanket He has wrapped around him, that school is safe. School should be safe, dammit. It should be a place where children can learn and grow and Take flight with learning and imagination. School should be safe.
My brother is many things: Charming, annoying, honorable, chivalrous Funny, playful, stubborn, oh so stubborn and Incredibly smart— of mouth and brain. Having a friend isn’t quite the same as having a sibling. There’s just something more and different and if you’re lucky A very special bond that defies all. Having a brother, well, that’s a strange and wonderful thing. It’s like having a best friend, champion and nemesis All carefully wrapped up in a Neat package of strength, tempered with a touch of vulnerability— Accented with a playful punch, Strong hugs, a smirk and a knowing look That can say more in a second than a lifetime of words. Having a brother isn’t always a choice. Finding your brother as an adult when you never even knew you Needed him…
Snuggles on a Saturday morning are the best. Warm, sweet child molded into my side, A contented smile on his face As we watch a favorite movie And I drink my tea. The occasional hug, The cheerful laugh, And mischievous grin As slowly, ever so slowly he shifts Watching me closely from beneath his fringe. Wow! Such cold feet!
Winter is early this year. The wet, cold snow blows Fiercely as we wander from House to house— Weather only curbs our urchins. Their quest for joy fulfilled. Yet, as the slush streaks sideways in Strong winds that could lift An Umbrella and whisk us away, They laugh and vie for the next piece. Until we near the house… Suddenly the promise of warmth, Hot chocolate, cupcakes and toys Appeals more. Trick or treat?!
1 Nov 2019
Poem (draft) – I really thought I wouldn’t say that.
I really thought I wouldn’t say that. The catch phrase of this and that The common tropes of parenthood- All those things our parents said Seemed so far off from who I thought That I would become.
It’s Generational, I thought. It wasn’t going to me Who would reutter those phrases. I wasn’t just meant to be That “kind” of parent.
My grandma laughed and ran her hand across my hair. “It’s okay sweetie, someday you’ll understand. Someday you’ll recognize the truth.” That it isn’t just generational. It’s all generations
We all thought it And found when our time came We’re surprised and somewhat, I find, comforted, because Yes, you really will find yourself saying “that”.