Everyday Love

Everyday Love

He left a trail of paper clips
and made coffee cup rings
on the envelopes of unopened junk mail.
She followed along behind
and made their home tidy again.

Her hands were bent and twisted.
Ruled by arthritis, they were weak and clumsy.
He opened jars with tight lids for her
and swept up the shattered pieces of drinking glasses
that slipped through her fingers
and crashed on the ceramic kitchen floor.

Together they picked apples,
watched movies and sunsets,
and strolled through the leaves in the park.
He tended the houseplants
when she forgot to water them.
She could always find his keys
and his glasses for him
when he misplaced them 
and left them lying about.

Their love was so simple, so pure,
so real, and so grand,
that others couldn't help but to feel it
when in their presence.
Some of the gestures of love between them
were extravagant and beyond imagining,
but mostly it was the little things 
that bound them together:
a shoulder rub after a long day,
sharing the last piece of apple pie,
holding hands at the theater, 
knowing when to speak
and when to remain silent,
and carrying each other's burdens.

Their love was an everyday love.
Not an ordinary love,
not a boring, tedious, or plain love,
but one that was felt every single day.
It was steadfast, reliable, and unbreakable.

His eyes twinkled and teased,
her smile lit up his world,
and her laughter was his music.

The Honeymooners

The Honeymooners

Late August early mornings
bring the raucous complaints
of a flock of geese overhead.

Their squawks and shrieks
rattle through the air,
breaking the peace,
clattering through the empty skies, 
echoing, 
like a honeymoon-bound car 
with strings of soup cans 
tied to the back bumper,
and a "Just Married" sign, 
taped to the trunk.

The honeymooners travel
with hope and uncertainty,
as the geese do,
to a new season
and a new start.

Geese making travel plans by the lake before taking flight.

Egg Custard Pie

Egg Custard Pie

One creamy, yellow slice of egg custard pie,
freckled with a soft sprinkle of nutmeg,
sitting in the bakery case at the diner, 
reminds me of childhood summers:
of blue sky days and morning glory ways;
of laundry on the line, drying in the breeze;
and dandelions and clover 
dancing to the rumblings of the honeybees.

Out of breath from racing our bikes home,
we take a break on the porch.
We sip lemonade over ice
and watch wispy, white clouds drift by.
We know all is good and all is right
because Mom has just handed us each a plate
with a slice of her homemade egg custard pie,
still warm (topped with whipped cream---piled high.)

Old-fashioned Ways

Old-fashioned Ways

Old-fashioned ways
and long ago days
drift through the clouds in my mind.
Manners and modesty,
grammar and honesty:
when did we leave these behind?

Honeysuckle and hollyhocks,
the ticking of clocks,
dresses with a bit of lace.
I remember drinking root beer floats,
and folding newspaper hats and boats,
back when homemade was commonplace.

Neighbors shared their hydrangea blues,
but not their political views,
and maintained respect for the rights of others.
It was a simpler age,
but now we've turned the page,
if only we had listened to our mothers.

Memories

Memories

Memories suddenly appear,
sneaking up on you 
from the rear.
They push you up higher and higher
as if you were on a swing 
at the playground.

They play on a screen in your head
like a motion picture show.
They stir up emotions and swirl them around, 
and then as quickly as they came, they go.

They arrive at your door uninvited.
Some you welcome with surprise and delight.
Others you slam the door against 
to protect yourself from the sadness they bring.
They cling to your spirit
the way darkness clings to night. 

A song, a smell, a color, a well-turned phrase. 
Anything can be a trigger to reminisce.
Each one takes you back to people and times in the past.
Some that you long for.
Some that you really don't miss.


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Speaking of memories, my friend Cary has written a fun list of pop culture memory triggers from the 1970's, 80's, and 90's. If you have a minute, click here and see how many you remember.  

Little Things

Little Things

Safety pins and buttons,
paper clips and strings,
nuts and bolts, nails and staples,
and other little things.

You might not even notice them
because they are so small,
but little things hold the world together.
They matter most of all.

Smiles and kind words,
and other gestures of good will
don't take much effort;
don't require a lot of skill.

But others will take note of them
and be quick to recall
the kindness that was shown to them--
it makes a difference to us all.

Today You Turn Twenty-One

Today You Turn Twenty-One

Today you turn twenty-one.
That's it. You're legal. I guess I'm done.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday my son.
You were my second born and my last.
Oh my. You've grown up so fast.
From a small bundle cradled in my arms
to a young man with twinkling eyes and beguiling charms.
You were my collector of things:
rocks, shells, cards, and strings.
You caught Pokemon and wanted to be a Power Ranger.
You had tons of friends; you didn't know a stranger.
Baseball, football, wrestling, track.
You played sports from here to there and back.
You brought music and rhythm to my ears;
my in-house bass player for years and years.
Lucky me with a ring-side seat!
Cheering you on with each successful feat.
You were and are my sweet ginger lad.
So much love to give. What fun we've had! 
Now in college with a pretty girl by your side.
In demand and on the move. I'm so full of pride!
Today you turn twenty-one.
That's it. You're legal. I guess I'm done.
No, no, not done. You will ALWAYS be my little one.
Happy birthday! Happy birthday to you, my son.
Today you turn twenty-one.

For my son's birthday: May 22, 2015.