I Walk

Bring Your Love to Me -The Avett Brothers

Like I said in my last post, God’s Word, poetry, sunshine, and fresh air get me through these uncertain days. Today’s prompt from NaPoWrimo was to write a poem based on a “walking archive”.  Those of you who follow me here or on Instagram  know I post a lot of pictures of things I find on my walks and hikes, so this one was a natural prompt for me.

I Walk 

I walk for sunshine
I walk for sanity
I walk to remind myself
Of Pippa’s song
God’s in His heaven
All’s right with the world
Even when it feels all wrong
I find a dandelion
And think of Ray Bradbury
And The Avett Brothers
And blow my wishes
to scatter the seeds
I observe moss on the rocks
And dream of the fairies who visit at night
Knowing it’s all pretend
Think of how we used to pretend
Give each other different names
Like Twenty-One Pilots
And I hum the song
Wish we could turn back time
I catch the sun
Filtering through the trees
Making shadows on my arm
While the birds sing
A song I do not know
I see beauty in the wildflowers
Beauty in the ruins
And I walk on
Ruby by my side
Man’s best friend
And mine, too.

I wish I could sing, I wish I could play

I’ve been inspired by creative kids to come up with lyrics to fit these trying times.

The song in the video below came to me this morning and I wrote another verse for it. If I could play an instrument or carry a tune in a bucket I’d perform for you. But, here’s my verse for you to sing.

I know a guy who dreams of work

He’d love to be there

About to go berserk

He doesn’t have gloves

He doesn’t have masks

He doesn’t have toilet paper 

Although he asks

He uses Quarantine

Quarantine

Quarantine

 

Now and Then

 

I guess I’ve been thinking a lot this week about how much things have changed in my lifetime. I’ve had conversations at lunch with other teachers ranging from the lack of discipline at the school where I’m currently teaching to the future and implanting of microchips in people.  In the words of Cher, “if I could turn back time; if I could find a way” I’d certainly do it for the sake of my grandkids.

I was sitting in the car this morning outside a gas station “mini-mart”, reading the signs along the back wall  CRAFT BEER –  BEER –  SODA –  ENERGY.   So weird. Compared to the picture above of a 7-Eleven that looks like the ones of my childhood, people time traveling in either direction would be bound to be confused. Those coming from the past would not understand craft beer and they would wonder how in the world a person would buy energy at a 7-Eleven.

 

dairyfarmersofcanada

Many people traveling backwards would be clueless about testing TV tubes. Of course, beer and ice cream have  obviously stood the test of time. As has milk, though we didn’t have all the different choices that are available today. My mom would send us to the drive-through milk store when we were teenagers and tell us to get a gallon of homogenized. That’s all I ever remember getting. Now I can get soy milk, almond milk,  coconut, cashew, rice, shrimp (jk),  lactose free, whole, reduced-fat, low-fat, fat-free, etc.

If could go back, I’d like to visit 1969. I was ten for most of that year, and in the fifth grade. I had my favorite teacher, Miss Wilkins. I was still in my familiar, well-loved elementary school. I walked a mile barefoot to go to the 7-Eleven to buy a small Icee for 11 cents. I caught crawdads in the ditch, built forts in the woods, played Barbies with my cousin and visited Mamaw in the summer with my family. Things changed the next year. Not all bad by any means, but some things were lost that could never be regained. Yet, some things were gained, some lessons learned, some memories made that shaped me, for better or worse.

 

Why I Love Books

 

 

“…I was paying for a book one day – I remember this so clearly- when Mr. Penumbra looked me in the eye and said, ‘Rosemary’” she does a good Penumbra impression-”’Rosemary, why do you love books so much?”
“And I said, ‘Well, I don’t know.’” She’s animated, girlish now: “‘I suppose I love them because they’re quiet, and I can take them to the park,’” She narrows her eyes. “He watched me, and he didn’t say a word. So then I said, ‘Well, actually, I love books because books are my best friends.’ Then he smiled – he has a wonderful smile – and he walked over and got on that ladder, and climbed higher than I’d ever seen him climb.”
From Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan

This got me to thinking about why I love books. I agree they are quiet and I can take them just about anywhere. I wouldn’t say it’s because they are my best friends, though perhaps I should consider making them my best friends seeing as I need some. Anyhow, why DO I love books so much?

I love that I can travel to places I might not ever get to otherwise. I can also read about places where I’ve been and relive memories from past times and places.

I love to meet characters that inspire me, make me smile, make me cry. I come to care about what happens to these characters. Watching them live and grow, suffer and rejoice, is often a balm to my spirit. Many of them remind me of people I know.

I love to read another author’s words and think ‘A-ha!’ because it’s exactly what I am thinking or feeling. Sometimes I am surprised at the emotions that rise up within me. Sometimes the words lead to thoughts and inspire words in me that I must write down.

It’s not just books, either. It’s bookstores, especially used ones, with their lovely old smells and shelves of treasures just waiting to be unearthed. It’s the bookish conversations with staff and other customers. It’s the bookmarks and notepads. And sometimes it’s the coffee.

Gleanings From Other Writers #1

 

In talking about a music box at her grandparents’ house, Eudora Welty compares the sound  to spoons in such a way that I could fully sense what she meant.

 

“….rather as if the spoons in the spoon holder started a quiet fretting among themselves.” ~ from One Writer’s Beginnings

This is a fantastic combination of simile and personification. After (as an adult) I read The Indian in the Cupboard, I thought  often about things in cabinets as having a personality. Maybe I should not admit to this childish working of my mind. Maybe I should funnel this imagination into a picture book.