Every Summer

The prompt for PAD Day 10 was “travel.”

Every Summer

Every summer we traveled past the cornfields of south Georgia
I marveled at the tall green stalks swaying as we passed by
My brothers played Punch Buggy and Beaver –
Hitting each other while I dreamed out the window

Every summer as we came into the rolling hills of north Georgia
I marveled at the highway cut right through the red clay and gray rock
My brothers argued over “v” in the alphabet game
While the flatlands of Florida melted from my mind

Every summer when we arrived at Mamaw’s house
I breathed in the sweet scent of the magnolia next to the gravel drive
My brothers inspected the old shed full of ancient tools and treasures
While I admired the claw foot tub and inhaled the soft fragrance of Dove soap

Those were the days of cousins and fireflies and Red Light-Green Light
Where we snuggled up on the creaky couch to laugh at old photos
The fuzzy black and white TV droned in the background
Every summer in Georgia felt like going home

bros 1964

Me and my brothers – before they were punching each other

So…

Today’s PAD prompt was  to write a “So” poem.

 

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So, then what?

I arrived by train in the late afternoon
I made it to your side, sending Mom to bed
in just a few hours it was time
she was all curled up in that great big bed
and I had to wake her up
she took your hand, said it was okay to go
I held her
and you were gone

So, then what?

I will tell your stories to my children
and grandchildren
I’ll be the artisan of silly names
and funny expressions
I will keep your memory alive

 

Today in my Facebook Memories, I found my poem for PAD Day 9, 2013.

Instructions

Are there only ten instructions?

I can do that

I believe in God

You know, GOD

No way!

I don’t have any statues in my house

Football trophies don’t count, right?

OMG- that’s not really saying it, right?

Yes, I call myself a Christian

I go to the early service

(Doesn’t interfere with the game)

Yes, sir/No sir

That’s so old fashioned

Murder in my heart? My thoughts count?

Honestly, I only buy it for the articles

It’s not plagiarism if I change a couple words

Little white lies don’t hurt anyone

Who in the world are Ananias and Sapphira? A rock band?

No, I don’t want my neighbor’s truck

I want my own

What? I thought you said ten

There are only really two?

Why didn’t you say so?

With ALL my heart, soul, and mind?

That’s a tough one

I like my neighbors – I always wave

I even put money in that kettle every December

Love them as much as I love me?

I’ll get back to you

Panic

Today’s PAD prompt was “Panic” . This came to mind as it does quite often.

that night

September, 2000

 

That Night

 

The black darkness as we tumbled

came so swift and sudden until

we were upright

across the road

facing the opposite direction

and she was gone

 

outside the car

screaming my name

before I could even make sense of it

I climbed out the window

to get her in my arms

and my heart restarted

my breath returned

Sound

Today’s PAD prompt was “sound”.  Here’s my sound memory…

 

 

Sweet Notes

The  sound of him singing

“Sweet Caroline”

at the top of his voice

from the shower

brings a smile and warms

my heart

I am amazed

at the change in him

 

who would have

ever thought

he’d be a Neil Diamond fan?

this tall boy-man

who left home to be a soldier

and returned

so thin and worldly-wise

 

yet I still hear

the boy in his voice

and see it in his grin.

 

You can read last year’s Day 6 poem HERE.

His Day

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November, 2012 – Vilano Beach

Today’s prompt(s) were the Two-for Tuesday: Beginnings or endings . My poem is a combination of sorts.

His Day

His days often went backwards
He could not find his hat
He had to have that hat to get on the train
It was time to go
Where was his sandwich?
He knew his mother had made a sandwich
Tomato on white bread with mayo
“Here’s your hat. Just sit down
It’s not time to go yet.”
She said this nearly everyday
He sat
He dozed
When he awoke, Wheel of Fortune was on
They watched together
Sometimes he guessed the phrase before the contestants
At bedtime, he always kissed his wife goodnight
At the end of the day he knew her

Last year’s Day 4 prompt was Distance .  My baseball themed poem was Go the Distance

Death

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There never seems to be a right time to cry, and then emotion builds up, and suddenly something inappropriate will cause it to overflow, and there I am with tears uncontrollably welling up at the wrong time and in the wrong place. – from The Irrational Season by Madeleine L’Engle

I am no expert on death. Yet, I have experienced it, as we all have or will. I know those stages of grief are real, yet vary from person to person. L’Engle’s words resonate with me.

When my dad died, I was sad, but assured in the knowledge that he knew the Lord. I was with my mother at his side when he died. Because of financial circumstances in my family, I went to work the following month, while still homeschooling our kids. Our life went full throttle, but about nine months later the sadness hit me. Hard. I struggled with depression, though I’m not sure I put a name on it back then.

About twelve years later, I lost a very dear friend. Debbie and I taught fourth grade together for three years, and remained friends even after I moved away from Winter Haven FL back to my hometown of Jacksonville. When she got cancer, I returned to visit her. Later, I flew to North Carolina to see her, where her parents were taking care of her. I returned there for her funeral. I would sometimes listen to her messages saved on my phone – she would leave me long, drawn out ones that my husband and I would laugh about. I fell apart the day they got erased by the guy at the Verizon store who reset my phone.

Last year, when my best friend, Cathy, died. I grieved, but kept pushing ahead. I knew she, too, was a believer. She was finished with the physical battle she’d fought long and hard against cancer. I made it my mission to keep in touch with her son. I cried. But, one night, about six months later, I lost it. I threw things in the kitchen and sobbed until I was spent.

Providentially, I have a husband who understands. He senses my moods (most of the time), he offers comfort, and he sometimes just lets me be. And he knows, when I throw things, I’m not throwing them at him.