Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Two fer Tuesday

The Hubs is asleep, long day; kids are asleep, long day. Last night I came across one of my notebooks. I'm a notebook whore. Thank you middle school teachers. I think that's when I started keeping a journal. The ones for school were boring, but I kept them in high school and some through college. The Hubs has directions to burn them if I die before he does--too incriminating for The Kids to read, though sometimes I think they'd like to, at least The Girl, when she's like 30 or so. After college I didn't really keep one on a regular basis, instead I have these little notebooks that I carry with me from time to time. They're filled with lists of books to read, books I've read, words I like, songs I like. Sometimes I write journal entries, poems, scraps of things, quotes.

I've pulled a few out and have decided to share with you some of my horrible, horrible poetry. You have to consider the age of the writer (some in high school some in college).

Moving (circa middle school)
The boxes are packed. The van is loaded.
I walk across my room for the very last time.
My fingers trace the initials I carved.
I quietly close the door, locking up my memories.
When I get upstairs, you're waiting.
You promise to write often.
It'll almost be as if I'm there with you to share our secrets your face seems to say.
I pause.
A tear runs down my face faster than one has ever run before.
I quickly wipe it on my sleeve.
Then I think, yes, you'll almost be there with me.
The only problem is you won't be.

The Deadbeat Club (circa college--frankly I like this one--I was in a B52's phase)
Jenni was in the Deadbeat Club
She was a pretty girl, Topaz
Only thing was she like to Roam
and since she lived in a Dry County
she'd have to sneak to the Loveshack.
To her it was a Cosmic Thing
to go there, drink beer and watch Channel Z.
Her friends there call her June Bug
except this one guy who calls her Bushfire.
He's a member of the Deadbeat Club
Rides a motorcycle and wears a Topaz
He told Jenni he take her to Rome,
but she knows better. Everyone in the Dry County
knows he lies to all the girls at the Loveshack.
But to Jenni it's a Cosmic Thing,
they both watch Channel Z
And she's sick of being called June Bug
but why does he call her Bushfire?

One Fall Day (circa 2003)
Humming child tunes only they know
they rake the leaves; she is six and he is three.
Dad naps inside, Moms reads a book; the first fall winds
begin to blow as into the pile of leaves they go.
Crunching leaves scatter as the sister and brother share the day.
It is sweet with the laziness Sunday's bring as
warm sunlight breaks through the branches
dappling the ground with golden lakes among mountains of shadows.

untitled (circa 2003)
It hangs so heavy in the air sometimes,
this yearning to know what they'll be like.
Both so full of thoughts, ideas and imagination it's hard to believe they'll be anything but magnificent.
So intuitive, thoughtful, funny and clever; maybe they'll be writers or artists, surely dreamers and people who make a difference.
It amazes me sometimes when I look at them and at my body that once they were small enough for me to keep them in my safety.
Will they even remember this day or this year? Any special times when they are so young and make me so happy?
Doubtful, maybe a fleeting whisper of something they can't describe, but a feeling of security and happiness.
She likes to ready poetry, I love that about her; so beautiful and sensitive and smart. Please don't let me fail her, this child I prayed for for years and years the perfect angel that finally became ours.
And he's still a baby in so many way; oh he's smart and funny, animated and loving but still a baby in the grand scheme of things.
The last baby I'll have, the period at the end of my fertility sentence.
Probably why I hold him so close, trying to recapture those baby days.
They see so much; will they see the bad in me and not be able to get passed it?
Will they love me anyway and like me still when they're old enough to decide of their own free will if I'm a good mother? The mother I want to be.

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