Welcome to Day 3 of the October Open Write. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here.
Carolina López is from Sonora, Mexico. She is a doctoral student pursuing a Ph.D. in Education with a specialization in Language, Literacy and Culture at Oklahoma State University. She is also a graduate teaching assistant in the School of Teaching, Learning and Educational Sciences. Her experience teaching in Mexico, China, and the U.S. has nurtured her research interests in writing practices. When Carolina is not doing doctoral work or teaching, you may find her kayaking or walking her adorable Pomsky, named Mila.
Inspiration
Richard Blanco wrote a poem that made me think of something that I’ve been wanting to write about. The repetition he uses inspired me to think of someone/something I always have in my heart. This kind of free verse gave me the opportunity to freely write about what I feel about being an auntie of 3 beautiful girls.
Mentor Text
Since Unfinished
BY RICHARD BLANCO
I’ve been writing this since
the summer my grandfather
taught me how to hold a blade
of grass between my thumbs
and make it whistle, since
I first learned to make green
from blue and yellow, turned
paper into snowflakes, believed
a seashell echoed the sea,
and the sea had no end.
*Read the rest of the poem here.
Process
Today, I’d like to encourage you to use this poem as a mentor text. Your poem can be as creative as you want it to be. You can also turn it into a free verse if you prefer. Just play with it.
Step 1: First, think of something you’ve been wanting to write about. Could be anything that you are ready to share today. If you think of something you’ve been wanting to write about, but you are not ready to share, that’s ok! Find something that will fill your heart today.
Hint: Some questions you can ask yourself are: Who do I want to remember today? What are some words that have been felt in my heart that have not been written or spoken? What have I missed telling my loved ones? Let your heart guide today’s inspiration.
Brainstorming:
My heart said – Your Nieces
Memory 1: The day I first heard the word “tía” (aunt)
Memory 2: The sweet memory of my niece calling the moon, “nuna” (Spanish word: luna)
Memory 3: My niece’s first day of school
Memory 4: The time I had to wait to meet my second niece
Memory 5: An instant bond that was unexpected but heartwarming
Memory 6: When I thought my heart was full, it divided into 3 lovely pieces
Step 2:
Read Richard Blanco’ poem titled “Since Unfinished,” while thinking of your own memories that haven’t been written.
NOTE:
Feel free to use repetition OR any other literary device. Let your unwritten words guide your poem. Write as much or as little as you want.
Here’s the poem I wrote to my 3 nieces. If you want to use my poem as a mentor text, go ahead! I’d be happy to see what everyone’s heart wants to share today.
Carolina’s Poem
Aunt of Three
I’ve been writing this since
the spring that my 1st niece
called me “tía” and asked me to
sit with her, since I first learned
What love means from auntie to niece, turning
movies into caricaturas with no end.
I’ve been writing this since
a spark tickled my chest, when my
niece attended school for the first time
and waived from the school door to say
bye bye, since the evening I first listened
to her saying “nuna” and pointed to the moon.
I’ve been writing this since
I had mixed feelings about becoming an aunt
For the second time, since my heart bursted when
my sister-in-law shared that one picture where
my niece was holding a letrero with the following text
“Promoted to be
a big sister”
I’ve been writing this since the day I traveled
to meet the second apple of my eye
Little did I know I’d get to meet you three months
later, while my heart broke to think our bond may
be loose, there was an unbreakable
bond to keep between us
I’ve been writing this since my heart
bursted of love when I knew I would
become an auntie of 3, since the apple of
my eye divided into three, while
I got to love and guide them for the
rest of my days.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
So late to the game with this, Carolina, but I had to write one of these and dedicate it to my youngest:
“To Emily”
I’ve been writing this since
That day at the faculty meeting
In the cafeteria
When I leaned back
Against the cafeteria table – elbows behind me –
Resting on the table like twin birds –
And I felt you
Hard and round as a stone
Within me.
A sharp intake of breath.
An outburst to a colleague
A confession to my husband.
No one believed me
I hadn’t even missed a cycle yet.
But I knew you so well
that I knew you before you were.
As you grew,
Strange bird, with your quirks,
requesting a flamethrower at 5
pink-skirted among pink peonies
obsessed with cryptids and creepy
and, master persuader, craving Nessie
but accepting Champ,
I knew you,
Was you.
And now -–
cynical, hilarious
(scratch a pessimist and you’ll find a disappointed
optimist) –
“I don’t know where to go from here,” she laments.
Stuck, but tough
Beaten, but hopeful
So painfully sensitive
that everything hurts –
I know you
I am you
and you are me:
that stone in the belly –
that sharp intake of breath –
that hurt that is everything.
Carolina, what a powerful prompt. Thank you so much for your time and care for us today. Your nieces are blessed to have you. The poem you wrote is so lovely. Here is my poem for today, since I’ve been spending so much time with her, I wrote about my sister.
I’ve been writing this since
I was too young to remember
you, with your toddler curls bobbing,
squeezing me with obvious pride.
You were finally a big sister.
And since we slept together in the same
big bed, sharing treats and secrets,
Since I took money from your giant-sized
piggy bank without asking.
I’ve been writing this since
you were a senior who thought
you were too cool for this
pesky freshman, but you told Mom
my bad news and she came to
pick me and my broken heart up
from school that day.
I’ve been writing this since
you cooked Mexican food for our
rehearsal dinner and chili and a
salad bar for our reception, and since
you wouldn’t come out for the family
photo until I got a little bridezilla, saying,
“In 30 years I won’t remember that the
chili was burned, but I’ll see that she
isn’t in the photo.” And you came and
managed to not burn the chili.
I’ve been writing this since you
were in the hospital for a hysterectomy
because of ovarian cancer
before you were able to have any
children of your own. While I had two
and you never did. Since you spoiled
my girls with expensive gifts like Gameboys,
and baked them cakes and took care of
them when I had surgery myself.
I’ve been writing this since that summer
when you told me the house next door
to yours might be for sale and we went to
the county office and wrote a letter to the
nephew of the owner who had died, since
you took care of it all those years we were
overseas, and now since I’ve come to live
here and be your neighbor.
I’ve been writing this since Saturday
when we went garage sale-ing and
filled up your truck with bargains and
treasures and since today when we
tore tiles and dry wall off the
shower walls at the Mountain house,
and I’ll be writing it still tomorrow when
you do your tile artwork and I help.
I’ll be writing this when I’m too old to remember
Denise, you may one day be yo old to remember, but this tribute to your sister and the bond you share will jog your memory so you can relive these special moments again and again. Maybe move the men into one house and you and your sister can share a house. I can’t imagine a love deeper than the one you share. This beautiful prompt sure birthed many amazing stories today.
Denise, oh my gosh, the beauty and love shared in this poem is incredibly poignant. I feel tears understanding the power of sisterly love you craft so gloriously in your poem. Kudos!
Yes, Denise! Exactly what Barb said. I felt this one, too. This is just beautiful.
Oh, man, Denise — waterworks this evening. This was just gorgeous and moving.
Thank you Carolina for the prompt today. I think I needed it. Thank you for the lovely imagery of an excited aunt. I only have one close niece and feel slighted now because she gives me the side eye. But, she’s only 9 months so, lol.
I love your last stanza: “since the apple of
my eye divided into three, while
I got to love and guide them for the
rest of my days.”
I never thought of the apple being divided. Such a great piece of imagery!
Here’s my poem….
Some Things Aren’t Meant to be Shared
I’ve been waiting to write this since
the thought of extinguishing a forbidden love.
Being kept hidden beneath the chambers
of my heart. Beating, bumping against
the opening of the seams of reality.
I’ve been waiting to write this since
I felt the connection we had was breaking up.
Staticky waves sound
more like cries from the deepest
depths of my soul.
I’ve been waiting to write this since
I’ve been in this dank place
glittered with false hope fashioned
with jingle bells of fond memories.
I’ve been waiting to write this since…
NEVER! For I hoped it to was to be
a while before sharing this secret.
Maybe while I was on my deathbed
whispering my last will and testament
and telling my bestest Stranger
to burn this poem!
I guess I’ll keep waiting….
I’m glad to know this prompt gave you purpose! Thank you for your lovely words! That side-eye from your niece can definitely mean the world!
I love how you end up telling everyone you’ll keep waiting. This suspense makes me want to know more. 😀
Jessica, what an interesting twist on the prompt. My favorite was the surprising:
Carolina, this is such a haunting and compelling prompt. Your poem pulls hard on my heartstrings, as I just celebrated my youngest niece’s wedding this weekend. It is a profoundly special relationship, as you convey so beautifully…
Here’s my late offering this evening. Thank you-
I’ve Been Writing This Since
I’ve been writing this since
I looked into the wide vent-grates
of the upper room floor
of my grandparents’ apartment,
sure that I saw angels
in the depths
in the same way
that I saw stairsteps to Heaven
in the light fixtures
of the doctor’s office ceiling
when I was a sick child.
Yeah, well.
I am still here
believing
when those I loved
are long gone
yet cheering me on
on the other side of portals
I cannot see
perhaps they are looking
through vent-grates
or the light-fixture stairways
at me.
I’m glad my prompt resonated with you!
Your words, “yet cheering me on
on the other side of the portals”
remind me to our beautiful tradition “The Day of the Dead,” where we believe the deceased come to visit us on Nov. 1st and 2nd. Such a lovely way to represent the after life.
Fran, beautiful images here of your great cloud of witnesses that you have had to say goodbye to, but “perhaps they are looking” Yes, I believe it.
Unfinished
I’ve been writing this since
I started teaching, September 1983:
since I slipped into a glove, since
I felt the click
as each dovetail found its rabbet.
I was home.
I’ve been writing this since
my head and heart burned with
fume of criticism:
Too loud!
Too rude!
Too chaotic!
while still Believing
that a blossom is not silent.
This is MY home.
I’ve been writing this since
I knew
and know
and have known
and will have know:
Teacher.
I am home.
Allison, I love how you end every verse referring back to “home.” It made me reflect on the importance of appreciating our present.
“I am home.” Teaching with all the crazy stuff, yet it was what you were meant to do, “I slipped into a glove” – such an apt description of that perfect fit. Beautiful poem, Allison.
Right from the title, I’m pulled in … the dovetail & rabbet is a dandy image for the fit here. You are masterful with bringing us thru the early days to the unfinished teacher present. What a great teacher you are, indeed! Lucky noisy kids. ? Susie
Allison, wow, I am so impressed with how you crafted this poem. I feel the power of a teacher’s life, and the overwhelming pressure from the outside to criticize all that teachers do. Yet, you expertly illustrate the joy of knowing the true passion and desire to teach and why it should be celebrated. What an end: “I am home.” Outstanding!
Carolina, what a beautiful prompt and fantastic model poem. The special moment you shared with “nuna” is so darn precious. Thank you!
Since 18
I have been writing this since
the summer I turned 18.
Since the very moment I laid eyes on
your bouncing red hair as you
dribbled the basketball into the
perfect Iowa sunset.
I have been writing this since
saying goodbye. Snow
falling down like the sky’s sorrowful tears
on 1st Ave in our hometown. I remember
the smell of your winter jacket and the tracks
your tires made in the fresh blanket of snow.
Since the first letter I addressed to
Great Lakes, Illinois–Navy boot camp. And
all the subsequent phone calls from North
Carolina, Skype messages in New York, and
FaceTime from Hawaii. No matter where
you were, I knew you were thinking of me.
I have been writing this since
you drove me to Des Moines
in the middle of a snowstorm–your
fingers clutching the steering wheel.
You moved home to be with me
during that Iowa winter after six
years of being apart.
I have been writing this since
walking on the Oregon coast, reminiscing
these moments in our decade’s long
history as the ocean kissed the
shoreline over and over again–the
the day you gave me the ring.
Rachelle,
This is so perfect! You were just telling me today how long it had taken you two to get to “engaged.” I love the story it tells and gradually gets to the kicker at the end. Lovely! I am so so happy for you–you have a wonderful love story.
OHHHH <3
Rachelle, I am so happy you used this “I have been writing this” prompt to celebrate the life you and Sam are building. (We need to share snowstorm stories sometime.)
Hugs,
Allison
Rachelle: One thing that caught my heart right away was “the smell of your winter jacket.” I have been remembering the smell of my father’s car upholstery… i do not know why, but it is very real. Your poem offers such layers of warmth and comfort – thank you!
Rachelle, such a beautiful piece! Reminds me of the song “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”. From all over the nation, the love ran deep. Your last stanza sums of the memories, finally blooming! Congratulations!
Thank you so much, Rachelle!
You’ve transformed a poem into a movie with beautiful scenes! Thanks for sharing <3
Ah, Rachelle, congratulations! What a wonderful topic for your poem today, and a celebration of a decade and a ring, and a lifetime of love.
Rachelle— What a love story! Gorgeous! You have powerful forces at play… the weather, the distant travels, the ocean. Each stanza is so evocative! I love it. Susie
A couple topics went through my mind before settling on this story which began on Sept. 29th.
My Champion
I’ve been writing this since
WIRELESS CALLER showed up on my phone
not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES…
in a row, all unanswered, and then —
it was your name I saw.
I’ve been writing this since
I arrived at the school, saw your coach
and then you, both covered in blood;
the iced moved away from your mouth,
your tooth pointing the wrong way.
I’ve been writing this since
the ER doctor did his thing,
the dentist splinted your teeth,
the orthodontist appointment making you late;
your question, “Will I be eligible to run today?”
I’ve been writing this since
you ran your race, took third place,
beat your personal best, no fear.
Your coaches telling us of your strength
which we already knew.
I’ve been writing this since
very race you’ve run since the accident,
never showing any hesitation,
even on the rainy day at IKE,
all the way to conference.
I’ve been writing this since
you took a fall
you got back up
you lived through the scariest parts
you kept on running
to Conference 2nd Place ?!
©Jennifer Kowaczek October 2022
Carolina, thank you for this prompt. Your poem about being an aunt is just lovely!
The prompt got me thinking all day about things I left unsaid. I had two other ideas before deciding to write about my daughter’s recent experience with a fall during cross country practice. She never let this fall deter her from running. And it was a HARD fall.
Wow, Jennifer, thank you for sharing this story of tenacity! I felt like I was right there along side you witnessing these feats. Your daughter’s fearlessness shines through the poem and is balanced well with your motherly hesitations and fears.
What a haunting and vivid poem about perseverance and overcoming! i
winced at the tooth but also stood in awe of the winning willpower – such a lesson.
Jennifer, please frame this for your daughter so that this memory can be captured forever! Your Champion has overcome so much and your love and support is woven throughout. The question though: “Will I be eligible to run today?” shows the determination and that nothing will stop her! It’s comical, but powerful! Thank you for sharing!
I let your prompt marinate in my brain much of the day and I kept coming back to this–how proud I am that my sons have learned from my mistakes.
I’ve been writing this since
I decided to leave so that
my sons would see how
women should be treated.
Since I faced the fact that
no amount of effort can
overcome a determination
to not change, not care.
I’ve been writing this since
my heart hurt watching my
older son trade his heart
for affection, learning the
hard way that it isn’t fair,
no one plays by the same
rules and you have to heed
the red flags and halt the play.
I’ve been writing this since
I watched my sons become
the kind of men I wish I’d met
when I was young and new
to love and the games people
play–they are the men who
renew my faith in trust, care,
and a love that sustains.
Cara, this is so lovely. Although the memories in the first stanza might be tough to relive, the message is that of strength. You’ve done a great job raising your boys ❤️
Cara, while there is so much hurt in these lines, there is so much more healing and love…oh, that longing to have known kind and good men when you were young, yet also celebrating these very qualities in your own sons… a circle that is so, so powerful. Thank you for your amazing strength and courage.
Oh, Cara. I had tears in my eyes at the opening lines. This is the “full circle” we hope for when women leave abusive situations, that the circle comes back to their intention for leaving – so that they and their children can have better lives, and be better people for themselves and for others. This encapsulates the hope so beautifully. As my dad would say in his sparsely worded compliments, “You did good.” The end line rings sharp and clear and resonates like a bell.
Hi Carolina,
You have given us a treat, not just your prompt but both your poem and the mentor poem are phenomenal. I loved picturing your love growing as “the apple of my eye divided into three.” Absolutely love it! Wait until you become a Great Aunt. I never knew love like this before!
I have longed to return to my family home and meet the new owners and see all they’ve done to “our” house. I know it won’t happen, but deep in my heart, I want to sit at the old kitchen table just one more time. Thank you for making space for me to go in and be with the table and memories of my sweet mom.
Our Old Kitchen Table
I’ve been writing this since
we sat across from each other
at the old wooden kitchen table
with the screw embedded between
burls and your wine glass, since
I struggled through algebra
and its variables, since
my sad pleas for help
gave you anger and exhaustion
I’ve been writing this since
we played Boggle and Yahtzee
after Saturday cartoons
and I Love Lucy, since
my Sweet Sixteen party
with a huge cake in the center
of the tablecloth covering the screw, since
my bridal and baby showers
for all our friends and family to
gather around in loving laughter
I’ve been writing this since
the hospice nurse, Gina, sat us down
to explain all the medications
that would numb your suffering
from the cancer invading your temple, since
we ate Gina’s spicy tacos after
saying grace, asking God for peace, since
we knew your time here was fading
like memories our old kitchen table kept sacred
© Stacey L. Joy, October 17, 2022
Stacey, thank you for sharing this poem with us today. I like how you used the table as a reoccurring symbol throughout–usually it brings people together for meals and games as you mentioned; however, it is also a gathering place for sad news too. Your poem made me think about the kitchen table at my childhood home. I set up a hair salon underneath it and gave some pretty “stylish” haircuts to my siblings until my mom found out where I was hiding the scissors. Thank you for your poem and bringing forth my own memories.
Rachelle, thank you! I could’ve written 49 stanzas! I also did hair at that table, learned to bake like my grandma, met the woman who was trying to take my mother’s spot with my stepdad, and soooo much more. I almost feel like the table holds more memories than any other room or object in that house.
?
Stacey, your poem is beautiful.
Thank you for sharing your words with us.
Stacey! Rich, this is so rich with images and the ache of nostalgia. The burl in the table… ooo, I love that… burls are amazing in their metaphoric depth. Right down to the hospice nurse sitting you down… there’s that raw ache. A friend said years ago, “Life happens in the kitchen.” You hammered that here with such finesse! I love the love in this piece. Susie
This Is Just to Say
By Mo Daley 10/17/22
I’ve been writing this since
that night we met in the cemetery
I’ve been meaning to thank you
for always accepting me for who I am
for showing our boys how to be men
for dusting so my allergies won’t be bothered
for packing my lunch every day
for always pouring just the right amount (a lot) of wine in my glass
for accompanying me to the theater
for feeding the dogs
for tolerating my Real Housewives addiction
for giving me space
for being my true companion through it all
Mo, I adore this from start to finish! I want someone to write this poem to me LOL! I hope your hubby appreciates and loves you even more than this poem shows.
?
Mo, what a sweet and warm poem full of wonderful ways a partner can show loving support. Your opening lines immediately grabbed my attention since meeting in the graveyard is so unusual but here it adds another level of love. Someone who takes the pain away and leads you to happier times. Loved the wine line. Powerful and provocative poem!
Oh so sweet, Mo. I laughed aloud (of course) at the “a lot” aside. Yes, yes. They are our enablers but in a good and medicinal way. : ) I tried to come up with one like this for my hub as well, but I kept getting sidetracked by all the intimate knowledge. Your succinct lines work so well here and perfectly convey the sense of each of these gestures. The repetition of “for” and keeping the lines tight keeps the sentimentality from going off the rails, but as the reader, I can fill that all in myself. Lovely.
Carolina, thank you so much for sharing your precious poem and inviting prompt. I’m looking forward to working on this one.
Impending Arrivals and Flights
I’ve been writing this
since mother’s steady hands
guided my first flight
wobbling up Hilltop
her encouraging voice
lifting me like bird wings
Since leaping off a train trestle
plunging endlessly into
the river’s shocking embrace
before learning how to slide
the fire escape tube attached
to my first rural classroom
I’ve been writing this knowing
you’ll be here one day
hoping you’ll find me between these lines
offering hope, love, courage—
hoping you’ll feel my own steady hands
guiding your flight through a cold and starry night
Barb Edler
17 October 2022
Such beautiful imagery here, Barb. I just love your first stanza. And I love the hopeful tone of your ending.
Barb, I love the circle of this poem, what was in the beginning comes around again at the end, the follower becoming the leader. What beautiful flights in each of these stanzas!
Barb–the peace in this poem. and the final stanza…a perfect ending to my poetry evening. Thank you..
Barb,
I love the imagery in your poem. A couple favorites:
and
Thank you for taking us on your journey.
Barb,
I am stunned by your powerful imagery of falling/descending. Your repetition of steady hands pulled me DOWN in important ways.
I will not impose my own (reader) response onto your words other than to say this is what I experienced as I read:
1) you felt your own mother’s hands/support as you learned to ride a bike
2) you felt the plunging experience of youth/young adulthood
3) you are reaching back to your son, holding out steady hands, as you come to terms with his plunge
I treasure your poem.
Allison
Barb – You’ve used flight so amazingly here… first the lift but then the plunge. That plunge is scary, shocking indeed! I love the sense of the flight bringing union in the end… forces finding each other. That title guiding us. Feeling for you as you write to bridge the gap. Love, Susie
Barb,
Gorgeous poem, especially “hoping you’ll find me between these lines” for the way it says in words what do often we can’t say in speech. Yet there’s a tenderness and sadness, a longing and grieving in these lines, too, especially the starry image at the end.
I love the prompt and your beautiful poem about your nieces. The anchor poem is also a beautiful retrospective and commentary on time. Time is definitely where my head went, as it always seems to be racing away from me.
I’ve been writing this
in between looking up
recipes for dinner–in between
the produce aisle and the meat,
shopping for ingredients when
Isaiah won’t eat beans and
Ish won’t eat greens and
Val’s not hungry but
she just ordered grubhub.
I’ve been writing this in the
waiting room of the pediatrician
who just squeezed us in
because I double booked
the first appointment
with a visit to the barber
and ended up missing both.
I’ve been writing this on my phone
at the stoplight after drop off for art
on my way to pickup from music
when the GPS says 12 minutes
but I need to be there in 5.
I’ve been writing this finding time
like a man trapped under ice finds breaths
in air pockets to keep from drowning and
I haven’t stopped since.
Wow, Dave, your poem carried me immediately to the days when children, life, and work become an impossible dance trying to take care of everyone and everything. I especially enjoy how you focus on everyday demands from the shopping, to the appointments, to the GPS which builds a more frenetic pace as it builds. Your final striking image of breathing underneath ice is riveting. I can just imagine you writing this poem while sitting at a stoplight. Powerful and deeply moving poem!
Dave, I love this as a long exhale of all the goings-on navigated under this ice with all the air pockets of breath releasing line after lime here. Whew. I feel it.
Dave, this is great! I love the “motion” and buildup you’ve crafted. And the need to keep writing like a drowning man under ice gasping for breath. So good!
Dave-I so remember those days! I can FEEL the tension and urgency in your life. The last line says it all. Eventually, you will stop–and you will miss (sort of) all those full days…
Dave, I instantly had flashbacks of when my children were little and had a gazillion food issues! But man oh man, each stanza reeled me all the way in! There’s nothing like a parent trying to do it all AND stay alive! ? It’s hard but doggone it, look at you, still going and still breathing!
Bravo!!!
Dave,
This is wonderful! It just drips with the exhaustion of parenthood and, well, life and its relentless expectations. How marvelous that you took a day of challenges and made them into a beautiful poem.
Carolina, your poem is absolutely beautiful. That love…so soft and strong is clear. What a gift this poem is for you to share with loved ones. I have this prompt tucked away. My day just didn’t allow for writing. I love that I know I’ll be back to this. Thank you so much.
Thanks for this prompt, Carolina. This one made me a bit nostalgic, especially for me two older children who no longer live at home. I think I will be calling them tonight.
Mother of Three
I’ve been writing this since we packed the car to bursting and dropped you off at college,
since you drifted to sleep in another state, graduated and made that state your new home
since you’ve created your own enterprise, since my letting-go-sadness morphed into pride.
I’ve been writing this since you vaulted off the beam, since you swung on bars that creaked, palms covered in chalk dust, since you stuck the landing, since you stuck it again and again, since my mama-fear mixed with pride.
I’ve been writing this since you wrote your first story, since you progressed to the state competition on the power of your words, on layers of depth which brought accolades, which I wanted to peel back, to examine, to unravel the mystery of your mind, since I was moved by your vivid words, since my awe danced with pride.
I’ve been writing this since your tiny fingers curled around mine, since we turned the pages of the book and you fell asleep to the sound of my voice, since you stepped on the school bus and stepped off, since I realized all three of you would run laps around me and laps around the world since my heart has been bursting with love for who you’ve all become.
The love and pride of a mother comes through clearly, Tammi. There are so many blessings shared here. These words got me thinking;
“the power of your words, on layers of depth which brought accolades, which I wanted to peel back, to examine, to unravel the mystery of your mind,”
So strong! Thank you
The imagery of the car packed to bursting really resonates. And all the twists and turns of parenthood–the pride and the fear and memories of their childhood–are perfectly encapsulated here.
Tammi, oh I do love your poem. The loving emotions and specific details is as warm as a mother’s gentle embrace. Your title is also perfect for the gorgeous poem. Beautiful! Makes my heart ache in a special way.
I love the reverse timeline here gradually taking us back yet through snapshots of a loved and loving life.
Carolina, this was fun to ponder over and play with! I love the auntie you’ve become, finding love for all three.
I’ve been writing this since
air first filled my lungs
pure, clean, clear
giving breath to breathless,
life to lifeless,
a lone
being in a sea of beings,
since seas pulled words to and from
the shores
and letters flecked and faded
midnight skies,
since cinders filled the bloody scape
of my knee, festering
and oozing from a wound
opened and reopened,
and fingers found
crayons and pencils,
brushes and inks,
dyes and letters,
Embedded in dark pigment,
A loan
on paper, returned from writers
I’ve been writing this
since I decided to walk,
barefoot and bathing suited,
a seven-year-old’s anger
seething and sending me
on the four mile route home,
along dirt roads,
past the farmer on his green tractor,
who must have wondered about this girl,
all
alone
It is my story
Wow. The energy in this poem is amazing. first–the break in “a lone, then a loan, then alone”is genius–a whole new direction there. And the last stanza. What a vivid picture you paint there!
Jennifer, I love the way your poem progresses, from the very beginning to the end. How you develop your story through colorful, striking details. I especially enjoyed your end. I could see that farmer on his green tractor, wondering about “this girl, all/alone…” Gorgeous poem.
a lone
being in a sea of beings,
since seas pulled words to and from
the shores
I could actually feel the undulation of these lines as I read them – felt myself mentally moving to and fro – that push and pull of the tide, of our lives. This is indeed a kind of origin story it seems. There is something both mythical and mystical about it, and then it is pulled into that singular image of the girl walking. The start point. Beautifully encapsulated here, Jennifer.
Whew, that was very thought provoking, Carolina. Thank you for this prompt and the inwardness it provided me.
I’ve Been Writing This…
I’ve been writing this since you gave me a shy wave
while we sat on the kindergarten floor mat, since we later walked home from school each day and gathered figs from the big tree near the pollywog pond.
I’ve been writing this while we shared boyfriends, trusted in the stories you told me when we lay naked under the sun on the rooftop and you told me you had “google eyes” for a young man from Harvard that didn’t wear socks in his shoes.
I’ve been writing this since I waited for you to come back after three years in Germany,
wrote me every week about your adventures in Europe, had a child then left the man of your dreams and moved back to be my neighbor.
I’ve been writing this since we started our shenanigans again, drinking too much wine and staying up late, giggling while you studied to be a nurse and then, while we sat on the beach with an ocean breeze, you told me you had breast cancer.
I’ve been writing this since I wondered why you didn’t let me visit but still called me every week to tell me you loved me, was in shock when Mark told me you were on your deathbed and refused help.
I’ve been writing this since I have a void in my marrow, yearn for you every day and find traces of you in the gifts you gave me, while I search and search for something to fill that hole in my broken heart.
Oh, Susan! What a treasure this friendship must have been. You’ve used this form perfectly to honor your friend. I hadn’t expected it to end as it did for her. The void in your marrow is powerful. I’m so glad you can find traces of her in her gifts.
Susan, thanks for sharing this very emotional story of a beautiful friendship. These deep words really moved me;
“i have a void in my marrow, yearn for you every day…” I hope you are consoled by memories of good times together.
Oh, Susan. A tale of friendship and of the love we build in our lives. And tears. And loss. That hole is filled with the love you had…
Susan,
This is beautiful and heartbreaking. I can feel the love have for your best friend. Your last stanza —
“I’ve been writing this since I have a void in my marrow, yearn for you every day and find traces of you in the gifts you gave me, while I search and search for something to fill that hole in my broken heart” —your sadness and pain is visceral. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Oh m, Susan, this amazing tribute to your friend is an honor to read. The shift from writing motivated by and grounded in friendship to writing as a way to make sense of a friend’s passing offers a complicated, heartfelt testimony of love and commitment. You’ve captured a lifetime of writing in this amazing poem.
Wow, Susan, what a special friendship you have created a beautiful tribute to this love from kindergarten. Oh, my goodness. Peace to you as the brokenness is still there.
LETTING YOUR WORDS FADE
I’ve been writing this
in my mental churn
of barbed moments
with your raw, lacerating snark;
I’ve been writing this
through the passing months
to dull the cut
that needed the repetitions of the tides
to break down the edges,
turn the shards
into polished sea glass,
collected for the muted colors
of the ocean and the sky
to fill the dish on the coffee table,
as if from those loose words
rubbed into something else,
something more palatable,
and then lost among the other memories,
I might think
not of you,
but of time’s capacity
to turn carbon
to diamonds
that let you fade away.
by Susie Morice© October 17, 2022
Wow, Susie! The metaphor of the sea glass filling the dish as loose words become something else is both beautiful and impactful. Especially in the description of allowing transformation into diamonds through time passing. And those last words, “that let you fade away,” allows us to see the healing.
Susie,
These lines really resonated with me.
“to dull the cut/that needed the repetitions of the tides/to break down the edges,/ turn the shards/ into polished sea glass,”
Words really can bring harm. I love the way the cutting words turn from carbon to diamonds over time.
Susie,
Tnis poem really speaks to the cathartic power our words take when put on paper where they bump against one another and full the sharp edges of others’ words spoken to harm us. I can’t help but think of the paradox of writing to forget as the act of writing serves as a way to remember. Love this.
Susie, you burn it up today! The sharpness of glass, turned seaglass and muted into something beautiful is a stunning image here – – the carbon to diamonds is also an image to treasure. It takes me back to the Gloucester, MA shore one year ago this week. I’d never searched for seaglass until then – and what an experience there on front beach and back beach, looking for those muted beauties. I love your analogy and the colors I see in that dish. We are that sea glass.
first of all, I am so happy to see that you are here and writing with us because I’ve missed you. Check your email.?
You have written a poem that speaks to me as if you witnessed all 29 years of verbal abuse that I suffered. Only you could put this pain and suffering and harm into a poem that gives hope, light, and freedom. You are incredible and I love you.
I will never look at polished sea glass the same ever again.
Susie, yes! We are on the same wavelength today with the idea of time’s passage “rubb[ing]” objects into “something else”! Your “polished sea glass” metaphor is wonderful! (And I’m so sorry that you had to endure the “raw, lacerating snark.”)
Susie, I’m so glad to find you sharing your poetry tonight. I feel the sharp edge of your words and the sharp edge of words. The need to erase and forget the damage. Your last metaphor was particularly striking, I wish I had written it:) I also loved “rubbed into something else, something more palatalbe,”. The desire to not think of that certain someone is relatable, especially the “raw, lacerating snark”. Ouch! Beautiful and powerful poem! Thank you!
Carolina, thank you for this fabulous mentor text by Richard Blanco – I love this poem. Your poem is gorgeous, so full of love for your dear nieces – what a gift your words are! I especially love your honest fear “while my heart broke to think our bond may
be loose,” followed by the image of “the apple of your eye” dividing dividing dividing, always more love to give – this is SO true.
what matters
I’ve been writing this since
watering slender wisps of green plants
alongside my father
while he spoke of patience and waiting
what wilting look liked
what was too much water
and tiny green globes grew
and then bigger still
all the while he continued
about patience and waiting
and these bulbous fruits turned red
until one very hot summer day
lovely tomatoes smiled at me
and I had the joy of harvest.
I’ve been writing this since
I was thirteen
slammed the front door behind me
stomping away
so frustrated by rules and restrictions
when a dandelion
caught my lowered gaze
and she was pushing through the crack
in our front sidewalk
and I began to gather other signs
the way the dark clouds parted bearing bright sun
soft smells of mother earth on a walk in the woods
the tree bent from storm with lost limb and yet
it kept on growing
I’ve been writing this since
walking alongside young children
years and years of walking
where one block takes one hour
while they gather and collect the bounty
whether leaves, seeds, rocks, acorns, sticks
the children know
what matters
I’ve been writing this since
feeling the vivacious cold of my bare feet in the stream
seeing hundreds of mantises crawl forth from the sac
wandering the winding road along a wooded evergreen canyon
being encircled by redwoods
standing on basalt cliffs
and even when ten cardinals appeared
on the morning he died
I’ve been writing this since
realizing there is
so much more
than
me
Maureen — Your poem feels like eyes blinking, each time seeing more and more of the bigger world. I could so see that 13 year old you, door slamming… so real. Love the line “The children know” … but of course! It is the ending, though, that really opens my eyes to the sage reality of how small we all are. Lovely poem! Susie
Maureen, I can see that transformation begin, when the focus shifts from frustration to the dandelion (you?) pushing through the crack, when that realization of so much more began. All the other stanzas held patience, your father’s, yours as the adult, which made the shift much more powerful.
Susie–This:
“and even when ten cardinals appeared
on the morning he died”
My heart cannot hold this feeling…
Maureen,
It’s so fitting that your writing begins w/ gardening, with nature, with the early learning of children. The gathering of rocks and other accoutrements of nature parallel the gathering of words and ideas. It’s so beautiful.
Maureen,
This is beautiful. I love the way your poems shows the passage of time and how through this passage there is growth and knowledge gleaned. Especially loved these lines:
“while he spoke of patience and waiting
what wilting look liked
what was too much water
and tiny green globes grew
and then bigger still
all the while he continued
about patience and waiting”
Maureen, this whole poem is stunning but the second stanza is bursting with so much hope and beauty that is right there to be noticed but can so often be overlooked.
Maureen, wow, what a beautiful poem. I can see the ripe fruit, hear the slamming door, and feel the awe of finding signs in nature. I love the sensory appeal through all the specific images and how you lead to the provocative last stanza.
Different Grades
I have been writing this since…
my kindergarteners turned on
light boxes and sensory spaces,
joy and sounds were held in place
with different opportunities to explore
my second grade class
created a market space when
students tried to add and subtract
amounts charged
my kindergarteners joined me
many moons later in fourth grade,
where they wrote like professionals,
using similes and metaphors
I was eventually invited to their
high school graduation
seniors, clad in cloaks
that spread like wings,
revealing
their flight ahead.
Carolina thanks for taking us back on memory lane.
“my kindergarteners joined me
many moons later in fourth grade,”
I love this! What a blessing to get to have these students again. I love how you built this poem, showing students’ growth and your own delight in these students.
What joy in this poem!! And what an honor, to be invited to the graduation of these children you started and stayed with on their way to that proud ending. They had to be so thrilled to reunite with you!
Juliette,
Beautiful memories!
Loved these lines:
“seniors, clad in cloaks
that spread like wings,
revealing
their flight ahead.”
It is wonderful to witness this growth in our students!
I ❤️ this prompt and Richard Blanca’s poetry. I just finished reading Black Girl, Call Home and used the final entry as inspiration, which led me to the poem I wrote today:
I’ve been writing…
on walls—
real & imagined
literal & metaphorical—
since conscripting
our apartment’s
enclosure as an
artist’s canvass;
my three-year-old
scribbles foreshadowing
alphabet love from
A to Z & 1 to infinity.
—Glenda Funk
October 17, 2022
“Writing on walls – real & imagined” – I love this so much, Glenda. Three-year-old scribbles leading to a lifetime of teaching and writing; so very true.
Glenda — I’m particularly drawn to the image of “writing on walls”… I might have to mess with this idea some more. Thanks for the book recommendation too! Susie
Hee Hee! That is fabulous! What a wonderful way to enrich a child by giving the three year old a personal canvas.
Writing on walls, real and imagined ~ the messages we give and want to give, wish we could give. I was riding through Atlanta over the weekend, looking at the graffiti in such risky places, wondering just how the artists get it where it is in such high profile places like I-75 downtown right over the cars. Your lines bring that memory, wondering what I would say in my imagined graffiti. I love the foreshadowing scribbles too!
Glenda, what a provocative poem. I’m especially moved by “scribbles foreshadowing/alphabet love from/ A to Z & 1 to infinity”. The love the sense of constant movement, real and imagined. Your poetry always paints an amazing canvas. I need to check out the book you mentioned, too. Thank you!
Thinking back is always tricky since my memories could go either way – joyful or dark. I am loving this prompt and am going to add it to my stack of ELA prompt cards for a time when more positive memories surface. For today, I’m taking a slightly different tact in looking forward, perhaps making this more sci-fi or hopeful. One in the same?
I have been writing this since
they dissolved all prisons
and found ways to nurture
the health and wellbeing
of all people
education became the new
pro sport, just as well funded
stadiums filled with cheering fans
at each graduation
the rivers began
to run clean and clear
and humans and fish alike
could breathe freely
we recognized one another
by the content of our character
no longer separating ourselves
from the universal golden rule
the time the tide finally turned
and our children could inherit
a life better than we had lived
a planet left healthier for all
You are looking forward, but I hope you have written a history that we learn one day, that this be what we look back on – “the time the tide finally turned.” Your poem is really a prayer for our world.
Denise — This is so hopeful and full of promise. I want every stanza of this to be real. Beautiful and inspiring! Susie
Denise–I will joyfully join you in this future history!
I have been
holding this
like a smooth
Petoskey stone
worn fine by
the currents
of time
or some
river
or other,
and I have
finally
let it go,
skipping it
across the
body of water
that is myself.
_____________________________________
Thank you for hosting us today, Carolina! I really enjoyed your mentor text – the love you feel for your nieces is so vividly illustrated. I took a left at your prompt, but I think I’m still in the same “neighborhood.” Lol. (After writing my offering, I realized that yesterday I was a house with many rooms, and today I’m a body of water. Isn’t poetry cool?)
Whoa! This feels like you exhaled it in one breath as the stone released. Love that last line “that is myself”!
Thank you for your lovely words, Scott! Yes, you’re definitely in the “same neighborhood.” I agree! This is what makes me love poetry! <3
Scott — It is so rich to see that stone… I must have been channeling a bit of this image when I wrote my own piece just now. I love the idea of stone wearing over time with water rubbing it smooth. I like your being water! Susie
Scott–I felt the release–really, I did. Beautifully written!
Gracias, Carolina. This prompt came on a day I decided to send emails to college writing coaches and classroom teachers about ways to JUST WRITE! So, your prompt inspired the poem about my thinking about reasons to write.
Writing to Unwind
I’ve been writing this since ….
Can’t finish ‘cause it makes me wince
When I think of getting to work
On tough things. I hate to shirk
But sometimes I do. What about you?
Teaching kids to write
Getting them to write through their night
Because writing helps shed some light
If they don’t have to worry about making it right.
Writing to learn is a tool
That helps one to think at home and think at school.
Students learn what we know to be true,
When we see what we say,
We know what we think
And often we find such a stink
In what we thought was true.
Re-reading helps us to undo
The mixed-up thinking we found in writing –
The mixed feelings that we’ve been fighting.
Yes, I’ve been writing this for a long time.
And not just to see if I could make it rhyme.
Writing does help me to unwind.
And even sometimes to do something kind.
Anna,
Thank you so much for taking good care of our hearts and minds the past two days. What a joy it has been.
And this poem is such a treat in its rhythm and rhyme to consider the possibilities in writing as unwinding, which implies a winding, rewinding, too — in its process but also the thinking.
Peace,
Sarah
Hi Anna! I LOVE that my prompt inspired you this much. Your line, “The mixed feelings that we’ve been fighting” clearly shows the purpose of this prompt. It made my heart FULL!
Carolina–what a wonderful prompt; the joy in your poem is palpable! Your prompt opened a place I didn’t expect to go to this morning. Maybe I needed to be there…
I’ve been writing this since…
I’ve been writing this since you were born,
the smaller twin,
a red-headed E.T.
who refused to phone home,
who refused to do the hokey-pokey,
hands in your tiny pockets,
who tantrumed out of rooms
and kept a bowl of water in your bedroom
for the cat.
I’ve been writing this since you became the odd one out,
temper flaring,
small body radiating tension,
the one with red hair
that everyone wanted to touch for luck,
and you didn’t want to be touched.
I never know quite what to do with you,
or for you.
I’ve been writing this since you began choosing the “wrong” friends
who also didn’t fit in,
the ones with bad parents and problems in school
and bad habits,
because you could finally be better than someone.
Anyone..
I’ve been writing this since you started medicating
to dull the hurt,
no matter what we did
to convince you that you were worthy of more than that,
that you were worthy of our love,
of your own love.
I’ve been writing this since you have been unable to stop,
to grow happy,
to find your place in the world,
to find someone who will love you back.
And now, I am writing this
in hopes that things are finally, finally
turning the corner,
that this time,
you can pull your feet out of misery
and find joy.
I’ve been writing this since you told me
you got a kitten last week.
Begin there, my red-haired boy.
Keep a bowl of water in your room
for the cat.
GJ Sands
10-17-22
Oh my gosh, Gayle, this is so touching, so loving. A poem that did, indeed, ache to be written. The poem reaches and the years stretch the love and the ache. The kitten and the bowl of water are a perfect ending. Thank you for being my first read of the morning. Carolina gave us a fine opportunity this morning. My best, Susie
Gayle, this is so, so beautiful! You’ve taken us on such a painful journey ~ and yet, left us with such hope. I will be thinking of the red-haired boy and his kitten all day. What an exquisite poem!
Gayle, my friend, I stand alongside you, full of hope and prayer that the corner is turned – that the joy replaces misery, and the cat is a conduit to feeling what only a beloved pet can bring in times that humans cannot. I have stood in these moments with two of my children – still stand there on the healing side – and I am here, standing in yours. Thank you for the powerful reminder of hope and prayer this morning.
Oh, Gayle, my tears are flowing for this red-haired boy, now a man. May that cat be a signal and of and a means to a new chapter for him.
Gayle, thanks for sharing this poem. It means a lot to you but it gives us (parents) hope too. Thanks Carolina for a prompt that allows us to write in this way.
Well, Gayle, this is packed with emotion and honesty. It’s not easy to open up your heart and pen to share such intimate thoughts about parenting. It makes me ache for you and for the red-haired boy. I’ll send hope that he has indeed turned the corner. The stanza that spoke such insight and hit harder:
Oh the worries you share of trying to find the right thing for a troubled child. My nephew was the same way and when he went off to school, he adopted three cats that now go everywhere with him and have made him feel useful and loved. I wish you the same for your red haired boy.
Carolina, what a compelling prompt today! Your devotion to your family is clear and unshakable, and I admire the commitment you have to your nieces. Your mention of mixed feelings about becoming an aunt and my memories of my earliest days of writing mingled to bring back some vivid color memories. Thank you for investing in us as writers today.
Writing in Crayons
I’ve been writing this
since i peeled that
red crayon
wrote r-e-d
in crooked letters
under K-i-m
in all my books
smiling proudly
relieved I didn’t
have to hide the pink
for once
from Susie Todd
her favorite color
afraid she’d steal it
take it to her house
where we washed our
hands with the cheddar
cheese colored Dial bar soap
sang Puff the Magic Dragon
played Chinese Checkers
I’ve been writing this
since I dreamed
I got a black Irish Wolfhound
named him Caesar
since we stood at the shore
where I taught him to howl
at the silver moon with a
tiny blue plastic toy wolf
that rested on his nose
since I stood behind his fluffy ears
blowing through the toy
like a birthday candle
that howled
that made him howl
that made me
laugh/howl proudly
I’ve been writing this
since Mom’s Lewy Body
hallucinations
alerted us to the toddler
alone in the orange shirt
with no mother in sight
playing near the
edge of the street
(a pumpkin)
since she confused the
yellow power tools
for bananas when her
family built the wheelchair
ramp
since wiping tears away
I’ve been writing this
through the smiles
the pride
the pain
the tears
the grief
Kim, Kim, Kim — each segment of these poetic memories are a burst of emotional color. So perfect to have started with that red crayon. I feel the joy in the dog howling with you. I feel the ache in Mama in that child’s body to close to the road…what an image! Beautiful and touching poem, Kim. Just beautiful. It was waiting to be written this morning. Hugs, Susie
Kim, your poems brought me back to my childhood memories! Such a fun and colorful poem!
The images in this poem bring out the nods of affirmation. Then the sharp turn when you bring in your mom’s dementia…ouch. Been there and it’s so hard.
Kim–I had no time to read anything this morning before I went to work–and I am glad I waited. This beautiful, feeling-filled, joyous and funny and sad and touching all the way through. I know your joys and your grief. And I am so glad that you got to peel that red crayon. Who wants pink when you can have RED?!
Thank you for the great prompt, Carolina, and for the lovely poem about your nieces.
I’ve Been Writing This
I’ve been writing this since
his cuteness and energy
entered our lives
adding both love and aggravation.
I’ve been writing this since
he became my constant companion,
the presence in the house
when no one but me was there.
I’ve been writing this since
some wicked bacteria entered his system
causing infection to bubble up and out
over and over again.
I’ve been writing this since
we thought amputating his leg
would stop the infection’s growth
(and stop the constant hydrotherapy and sugar wraps).
I’ve been writing this since
we boarded him for two trips
and both times other dogs sniffed out
his vulnerability and plunged in their teeth.
I’ve been writing this since
the bubbles would not stay inside
and the smell and the blood and the fever
took over him and our home.
I’ve been writing this since
the needle went in and lethal fluid
stopped his heart
breaking mine.
~Susan Ahlbrand
17 October 2022
I’ve Been Writing This
I’ve been writing this since
his cuteness and energy
entered our lives
adding both love and aggravation.
I’ve been writing this since
he became my constant companion,
the presence in the house
when no one but me was there.
I’ve been writing this since
some wicked bacteria entered his system
causing infection to bubble up and out
over and over again.
I’ve been writing this since
we thought amputating his three-year-old leg
would stop the infection’s growth
(and stop the constant hydrotherapy and sugar wraps).
I’ve been writing this since
we boarded him for two trips
and both times other dogs sniffed out
his vulnerability and plunged in their teeth.
I’ve been writing this since
the bubbles would not stay inside
and the smell and the blood and the fever
took over him and our home.
I’ve been writing this since
the needle went in and lethal fluid
stopped his heart
breaking mine.
~Susan Ahlbrand
17 October 2022
Susan, I am weeping over the loss of your constant companion….there is no broken heart like that of a family member pet who loves unconditionally and takes pleasure in the simple moments with us, never asking for more than togetherness. I smile through the broken clouds, knowing that he had you. You. You made a difference in his life and helped him over the hurdle at the end – not “letting him die,” because that wasn’t a choice….you knew his pain, loved him, and did not let him suffer. And he had the best in you! Hugs, my friend.
Heartbreaking loss. It’s so hard to deal with all of these turns of events as you thought he would recover and yet… So sorry.
I feel this deeply, Susan! I’m so sorry this happened. Thank you for writing and sharing with us.
I’m sorry to hear about your loss, Susan. Our furry friends are family to us! Thanks for sharing!
Susan–you have my tears to mix with your tears. I am so very sorry. So very sorry.
Soooo sorry for your loss. I know the suffering is unbearable but when we must let them go, our suffering is debilitating. Such a cute sweetheart of a companion. My heart breaks as your does.
?
Your poem reminds me of my own sister who has been Tia to my three daughters. Aunts are those other mothers who share the love and joy. Thanks for this prompt. I have a drafty draft…
Since You’ve Been Gone
I’ve been writing this since
I learned to walk
holding onto your pointer finger
since driving the circular block
hearing “turn signal” “stop sign”
“slow down.”
I’ve been writing this since slowing down
means thinking, means remembering,
means crying when I reach for the phone
to call you with the news, the new
fruit is ripening, the Tigers are playing.
I’ve been writing this since
I held your dying hand
your pointer finger blue and bruised
no longer pointing me
in the right direction.
Margaret, words of beauty and heartache, of grief and thanksgiving, and of hope that you feel that finger pointing you in the right direction in all the places when you least expect it. It’s there – – in the whisper of the breeze, in the ripened fruit, on the playing field, at every stop sign and turn signal. It’s there.
Awe!! This made my day, Margaret. I definitely agree on aunts being “other mothers who share the love and joy”! Your drafty draft brings a vivid movie in my mind! Love it!
Margaret, How sad for you and the family, but glad that you have fond memories of this dear sister. .The lines
I’ve been writing this since slowing down
means thinking, means remembering,
probably ring true for many others. But, that’s okay. You’re reminding us to do good so we’ll have good memories should we lose a friend or family member.
I had a feeling today’s prompt would bring on a lot of memories and I know how you feel. I’m right there with you. Sending hugs your way!