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Passions in Poetry

serenity's interactive journal

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Nightshade
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175 posted 03-10-2004 05:15 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Boy, that Southern Comfort should be pretty ripe by now, seeing as I bought that when I lived with you and your family back in the early 80's. Sippin' Southern on your front porch on those hot summer nights....remember when....oops, maybe another time.
serenity blaze
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176 posted 03-10-2004 05:31 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

*touching the screen*

You ladies are priceless.

thankyou, thankyou so very much...

Sometimes old times are hard places to go, and other times it's harder not to go there.

This is reminding me so much of a time when I used to run an informal "support" group from my home. My children were just tots then, and "the group" was something spontaneous that I'd done. Y'see, I found myself being "sought out" by various friends from all walks of life.

They were curious. How could a former party girl find such contentment being a stay-at-home mom? And I had too--I gloried in the baby days, planting herb gardens, writing & painting, and I felt consumed by creativity. I spent my days (and most nights) alone with my kids, and happy about it too. My nights were spent reading inspirational literature, and scripture from the world's religions. We were poor too, so my house was always open as we couldn't afford to run the air conditioning. I played my Joni Mitchell loud, and I could be seen digging in the gardens then. I was learning to make tonics and tinctures--herbs bundled beneath the porch, my babies tan and happy in the playpen or walker. So the ladies began to drop by and we'd talk--very much like we're doing here, now.

They wanted to get to know "the witch."

It was the first time that I recall being "sought" out, (by women, anyway) and it genuinely puzzled me that anyone would be interested in keeping company with me. Until then I'd thought I had to be "on" all the time--I'd worn myself out being a prototype of Janis Joplin. My newfound popularity mystified me.

It never occurred to me before that I could make friends just being myself.

More and more, I found myself on the phone, fielding questions regarding gardening tips, and phases of the moon. I recommended books to them. They did the same for me. There was just such a communion between us all, and we shared our laughter, tears and just listened sometimes. It actually snowballed to such a degree that it sparked more than a little resentment with the insignifigant other.

"What are you now, dial-a-witch?" he asked once as he handed me the phone yet again.

It was beginning to get a bit intrusive on the family time. I was protective of that time too, so I had what I thought was a great idea. I wasn't the only one who knew things--I thought that these ladies needed to meet each other. So I had a meeting.

Close to forty people showed up at my tiny suburban house. Mostly women, but there were a few curious men too. I had made an outline of things I wanted to discuss based on the faqs--frequently asked questions, of course. I didn't have a clue as to how to "direct" anything either. I just thought it would be cool if we could get together and help each other through some puzzling times.

So I made some copies of herbal charts for the gardeners. I had some copies of books that I'd found helpful and they were on display. I asked them to help out with refreshments too, so we began a "pot-luck" party tradition--which resulted in recipe sharing and market tips. We even started an informal food bank for those who were going through particularly hard times.

I was taken aback that first night at just how many people showed up. They didn't all continue to come, of course. There were some who showed up with the enticement of free courses in witchcraft. The first thing I told the group was that there would be no sacrificing of goats--because some women did actually show up wearing black. They were going to be disappointed by what we didn't discuss. Those are the ones who didn't return. I divided the rest into two groups--those who were in fact sincere in spiritual practices, and those who were more interested in the comradery and emotional support offered.

(The ones who were interested in learning "craft" constituted a much smaller group. I later started calling them "my girls" and to this day, they call around sabbat.)

The first thing I insisted on is that we share leadership. I held the floor for that first night only (actually the second too--but that was just until we found our direction.) We met in parks, and at each other's homes--and the rest of the meetings were held in the daytime. We had assignments for each other. These varied, but they were designed to urge each other out of comfort zones. These assignments weren't mandatory, but if someone chose not to do them, they were required to give an explanation of "why." "Armchair psychology" at its best, for sure. But it did allow about twenty housewives to network and support each other through some tough times. We discussed everything from sharing "rape" stories, child molestation spousal abuse--it's horrifying how common a theme that is too.

We were just playing but something solid grew there, and we helped each other as we formed friendships for life. We knew things about each other our own families didn't know. It wasn't too long before someone decided that we needed to give our little club a name.

Smiling wide now.

I have some letterhead with dates on it to prove this too.

The name we decided upon was "A circle of friends."

Just like on the blue pages.

My sister came upon our theme song through one of her assignments. Her task was simply to stand up and sing, a song of her choice, for the group at the next meeting.

She didn't stand, but sat cross-legged in the cramped trailer of one of the members. She protested that she was "tone-deaf" and that she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.
But she was willing to do it, but warned us that it wasn't going to be a concert.

She wasn't through the first chorus when the decorative plastic palm tree behind her fell, for no apparent reason, hitting her on the head.

We considered it a sign and let her out of her turmoil (and ours).

The song she'd chosen was by Harry Chapin--All My Life's a Circle.

Here's an excerpt, for those unfamiliar:

" It seems like I've been here before;
I can't remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we'll all be together again.
No straight lines make up my life;
And all my roads have bends;
There's no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.

Chorus:
I found you a thousand times;
I guess you done the same;
But then we lose each other;
It's like a children's game;

As I find you here again;
A thought runs through my mind;
Our love is like a circle;
Let's go 'round one more time."

*   *   *

Weird, huh?

*   *   *

(This story sounds so "hokey", I know.)

But I knew this all felt familiar.

thanks again ladies...


  
Janet Marie
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177 posted 03-10-2004 05:48 PM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

the moth is still recouping and trying to be good...
(anyone falling for that???)   
and it seems I am always way behind in pips these days but wants to come back and read some of these sharings...
you guys should be turning these into prose.
Janet Marie
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since 01-22-2000
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178 posted 03-10-2004 05:50 PM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

KA baby??? ya put a whole new spin on "interactive."  
serenity blaze
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179 posted 03-10-2004 06:09 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

Jan? You just get yourself better.

I am so selfish...whine....

I miss your voice lady.

Love ya m'twin.

Nightshade
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180 posted 03-10-2004 06:11 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Wow Karen. I wish I had a group like that to go to ..... hey! I do. Right here.
Sunshine
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181 posted 03-10-2004 06:13 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

I think Serenity can spin anything...including minds.  Which is a very good thing, for all of us.  I'm going to see if I can find a clam at Red Lobster [I'd rather find an oyster], come back, and see what I can "dig" up.

You've one heck of a garden, Lady.  Look at what's popping out all over...
Janet Marie
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182 posted 03-10-2004 06:30 PM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

the voice is coming back...
but the best is..I can SWALLOW now...

lmao  

Sunshine
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183 posted 03-10-2004 06:46 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine


Digging Solitude…

[Blame it on Serenity’s garden…]

If you’ve read any of my prose or poetry, you know I was born in Los Angeles.  Culver City, to be exact.  Queen of Angels Hospital.  My first seven years were concrete years.

Then Dad moved us to Nipomo, as the workforce for carpenters had moved north, to the “undeveloped” areas.  Nipomo, about 300 folk, was country-quiet.  A tomboy’s paradise.

It was, simply, Heaven.

Horses.  Dogs running around.  A big old bull in the pasture out back.  Chickens.  Rabbits.  And a GARDEN.  Man, I didn’t know worms got THAT big!  Trees to climb, and cats to pet.  Man, seven was good.  Look at all the fun things to do on a farm!  Digging in dirt.  Gathering eggs!  Planting LOTS of neat and weird stuff!  “Why so much room between these itty bitty seeds, Daddy?  Don’cha wanna put ‘em closer?”  “Oh, you’ll see.  You’ll see…”

Nipomo dirt was good, dark and rich soil.  Really rich soil.  It seemed as if overnight, literally overnight, green things were sprouting up!  We had a GARDEN!  And a lot of things came into perspective.  Like weeding.  And watering.  And weeding some more, being careful not to trip over vines and such.  Jack in the Beanstalk came alive among the corn rows.  Cornsilk became magical beneath my fingertips.

“When will everything be ready, daddy?”  

“Soon enough, little one”.

The snap beans were ready first.  And the peas.  Fresh carrots soon followed, and great leaves of spinach, while the squash and pumpkins and watermelon continued to grow.  The corn would be…soon!  Soon!

A week later, Dad learned about a house we could get relatively cheap on the south side of Santa Maria.  That’s where Mom and Dad worked most of the time, and the 20 minute drive to and from Santa Maria to Nipomo was 40 minutes a day they didn’t want to be away from the kids, not to mention gas and baby-sitting expenses.  And the schools might be better, I heard them say, as they pillow-talked into the night.  

I lay there in my bed, wondering who was going to take care of the garden?  Everything was almost ready to pick and enjoy, and we, who worked SO hard all this time to care for it, wouldn’t taste anything.  I remember the prick of salty tears running down my cheeks and into my ears, and I wasn’t sure [then] why I didn’t want to move away from this little part of heaven.  Maybe my fingernails would never know good rich dirt again.  

We moved.  The new house was on the corner of a huge old vacant oil field where several other life-changing stories would occur.  We were on the outskirts of town, and dad promised “another” garden.  We still had our chickens and rabbits, that was good.  Then about three nights after we moved in, daddy got me out of bed around midnight.  

“Look!”  The moon was SO big and full.  “Want to come with me and your Uncle?  We’re going on a little shopping trip.”  I was so bemused with the biggest moon I ever saw, and I never turned down anything that had to do with my father.

We shopped, all right.  We returned to Nipomo in the dead of night, and picked the corn, and watermelons, squash and zucchini, melons and found the remaining carrots, spinach leaves, and cleaned out our garden.  I remember giggling as we drove home under the full moon.

The next day, the new renters moved in.  The garden was theirs.
Nightshade
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184 posted 03-10-2004 07:41 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

First of all, Janet Marie - you have been sick with a cold? Me too! My ears ache and my throat is so sore and my nose is like a faucet. Oh well, could be worse. Get better soon!
  Karilea, your childhood home sounds wonderful. I always wanted to live on a farm. I have a love of animals especially horses. When I was only around 4 or 5, my grandfather would often take me with him to the "garage" to have his car "looked at." It was just outside of London Ontario, and a rural area. I know now that it was just "Poppy's" excuse to get away from the house, the city and sit with the mechanics at the garage and have his favourites, a bottle of cold Coke and a smoke. Now, I would be as patient as I could waiting for him. Kicking stones, petting the garage's mangey, old hound and basically daydreaming. Then the time would come! Poppy's visit was finished and he was going to take me by my bestest of best places!
  It was a small farm that raised Shetland ponies. He didn't know the owners, so my Poppy would just park his old car at the side of the road and we would walk to the fence and chat. Always, his final words to me would be... "Chrissy, when Poppy wins the Irish Sweepstakes, which pony do you want?" Well now !  I was so sure he was gonna win that I had to really think long and hard on my answer. "Umm...the black and white one please." I would say with a big grin. "Are you sure?" "Not the pure white one....or the palamino?" He took a haul off his smoke and looked serious. I would change my mind a hundred times before we left. lol. I hope he knew how special those trips were for me.
  Geesh....and I was gonna write about my grandparents garden. Hmmm....maybe my sister will. I won't be able to sleep to-night now because of all the memories flooding forth. Come on Karen - give us more of yours- please?
serenity blaze
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185 posted 03-10-2004 09:40 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

wow.

a shetland pony farm.

WOW.

If that's not a little girl's dream I don't know what is...

That just reminded me of a conversation amongst "the girls" of my group.

I don't remember the make of my friend's car, probably a toyota--all I recall is that it was basically a tiny piece of tin, and we would barrel down the highway fearlessly in that thing.

My friend was pretty much a slob, too, within the confines of her own environment anyway. She was militant against littering the world, but her own vehicle was a rolling garbage can. It also had the distinction of having a hole in the right floorboard of the back seat--so the fast food containers and sometimes even bags of groceries from her shopping trip the day before would be piled to the left, usually held down by a kid's sweater or some article of clothing.

There was only room for three of us, and so it was usually my friend (call her Elise), another girl we have to call "Frankie", and myself.

Elise would drive, of course, and "Frankie" would normally hop in the back, allowing me the front seat. This wasn't out of respect, but to avoid potential disaster. I am so absentminded, they didn't trust me not to put my feet down, through the hole while we were riding. Nod. Ouch.

On the day of this recollection, for some reason I was sitting in the back.

We were driving through Lafitte that day and I remember it was a day of glorious weather, much like today was. We had the stereo on, Elise was singing, and Frankie had her long wild hair, twisted up beneath her head, one bare foot in the window, looking queenly calm as she gazed at the scenery. I was busying myself in the back with er...something I'll let ya'll guess--something I no longer actively advocate, um, you know? Sure you do.

The highway was a blurry line through the hole between my feet.

Over the music I heard Frankie squeal:

"oooooh! Look at the cute little sheep-like things!"

Elise, a former farm girl, turned down the radio and sighed, saying with a pained look on her face:

"Frankie? That is [an expletive] goat."

She looked a little cross as she lit a cigarette one-handed.

"I cannot believe you are a frigging witch and can't recognize [an expletive] goat."

I just grinned at her in the rearview mirror.

The highway was still zipping by between my feet. But I was still busy with "paperwork."

I asked Frankie to roll up the window.

Frankie did, but defended her ignorance of goats by saying she had a pony on her Grandma's farm--no other pets.

I was alarmed but focused as Elise stepped off of the gas, slowing the car considerably as she looked at Frankie in astonishment. She was a more than little cross now.

"A pony? A pony? You had [an expletive] pony?"

(Elise loved dem adverbs.)

She ranted on.

"You have been telling me for three years about your deprived childhood, and now suddenly I find you had a pony?"

She was steamed.

"I'll bet you had a canopy bed, too!"

um...

Frankie blushed. "heh, heh?"

That's when they heard my quiet "uh oh" from the backseat.

Yep. I'd dropped my "busywork" down the hole.

*   *   *

"I do not believe this..." Elise was very unhappy now.

She pulled over to the side of the highway and Frankie and I swapped seats.

"Sorry." I offered sheepishly.  

And we just traveled on down the road...
Nightshade
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186 posted 03-10-2004 10:23 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

And your busywork my friend was blowin in the wind....your busywork was blowin in the wind. Hee hee.
Enchantress
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Somewhere in time~


187 posted 03-10-2004 10:50 PM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

OMG!!  Something about farmland triggered a way back memory.

There is something about being the older of the 'two sisters'....responsibility!

From the time I was seven and Chris came along, (she was supposed to be a baby brother too!), but, I'm glad she wasn't as we already had brother Joey the dummy..oh, sorry, another story..anyway as I was saying..with mom and dad so busy, unless we were with our grandparents all we had was each other.  (And that special bond has remained and only grown stronger over the years).

Anyway, when Chris was about four or five and I would have been eleven or twelve, I was entrusted to watch my little sister at a picnic the two of us were allowed to attend with the next door neighbours.

As things go, it was a very hot day in the old park outside of town..tons of kids, and adults, lots of games to play, potato sack etc., and moi kinda lost track of Chrissy...Talk about panic city!!

I had everyone calling out and looking..seemed like hours went by...no Chris.

Seems she had somehow managed to lock herself in an old wooden broken down outhouse and she couldn't get out again!!

Now if it was hot outside, just imagine how hot it was in that tiny outhouse!!  Had to have been 100 degrees at least in there.

She had been yelling, we found out later, through a hole the size of a fifty cent piece, while standing on the edge of the seat, right next to the hole which was large enough for her to fall into!!

Someone finally heard her and jimmied the lock to free her...but what a state we both were in.  Her from being locked in that stinky hot outhouse, and me, from shirking my responsiblities.

To this day I think both of us have an everlasting fear of one of those johnny-on-the-spot, port-a-johns!

Going for another glass or ...refreshment..
Oh the memories Serenity!  They just keep flooding back.

This is such fun!

Okay guys...we know you are reading too!

Remind me to tell you of the time my sister took the roofers a block away a pitcher of Kool Aid, in her bikini!  

ROTFL!!
Nightshade
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188 posted 03-10-2004 11:00 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Good grief!! What a memory that is! I was soooo scared and my legs were trembling. I tried to yell through the hole in the side of the outhouse, but that meant standing up on the seat and if I stepped back a few inches, I would have surely fell in. YUCK. No wonder I can't even use a phone booth without knowing for certain that the door will open!
   What?!! I never served the men Kool Aid in a bikini !! It was a one piece.   Night All !!
serenity blaze
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189 posted 03-10-2004 11:06 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

Gleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

The port-a-john reminded me again!

(I'm pretty sure I told this one elsewhere in the forum, but, shrug, here it is again)

I sometimes react with some instincts of protection here in the forum, because? Well, I come by that naturally.

We're back at parades now, good poets. I'd taken my daughter to go use the port-a-let (that's what they call 'em here) and as is sometimes the case, there was a bit of a line to get in.

There were three of them lined up, and still no lack of customers.

The poor child was squirming too, so naturally she was placed in front of me. She was next in line, right after this biker guy. (Yeah, okay, I thought about that too, but we train the kids early in port-a-let ritualed clean--as much as possible, anyway.)

I had turned to talk to some friends behind me, maintaining my place in line and I heard the distinctive thud of a port-a-let door. I turned and my daughter was not there, so I was happy that she'd made it without an accident, and I was about to resume my conversation whereupon, to my horror, the bikers began rocking the port-a-let.

I "lost" it. I must have grown three feet in stature as I began hurling expetives to those "boys" who were um, making waves. In the midst of this tirade, I felt a tug on my jacket and heard my daughter asking puzzled, "Mom?"



Someone in the next line had mercy on my child, and allowed her to cut in their line.

I was relieved but then it dawned on me.

OMG.

I was blushing furiously and couldn't apologize enough to the leather and tattoo gang.

The largest of the hawg wild just looked down at me and smiled as though I were cute, and said something that amounted to a verbal pat on the head:

"I just wish you were my Mom..."

aw.


Enchantress
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Somewhere in time~


190 posted 03-10-2004 11:09 PM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

Ooooh remember crop tops??!
I had a really sexy one with little white balls dangling from it..
AND white terry cloth short shorts!
Bet Chris remembers that outfit
I thought I was SOOO cool! Ahahahaaaaaa!

Nite everyone.
Nightshade
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191 posted 03-10-2004 11:11 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Gotta luv those biker dudes!!  
Okay, I am off to bed for sure this time.
Nighty night!


hold the presses! Yes, I remember your "calypso" outfit. Those shorts looked more like underpants......ha ha haaaaaa I hate the word "underpants" ha ha haaa....oooh Zzzzzzzzzzz
serenity blaze
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192 posted 03-10-2004 11:13 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

"g'nite" ladies.

Thanks for the smiles.

vlraynes
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Somewhere... out there...


193 posted 03-10-2004 11:20 PM       View Profile for vlraynes   Email vlraynes   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit vlraynes's Home Page   View IP for vlraynes


I'll catch up on my reading tomorrow...

For now?...just popping in to wish you all a goodnight...smile

Love ya, ladies...
Sunshine
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194 posted 03-11-2004 07:08 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

It starts early, before the sun is up.

I hear him, walking softly, quietly, easily through the house, I hear the silent movements of reach, stretch, the hushed sounds of the coffee pot being moved, the slight rumbling of pipes as water fills them, rushing forth to the opening of the coffee pot, the slight shushing bubbling sound of water being captured between the walls of the percolator.

As a cabinet door opens, I’ve by now sat up in the top bunk, and move slowly as to not wake the sleeper below me.  The morning air is chill with moisture, and outside is still dark, very dark.  I ease my leg over the end of the bed and make my way down the ladder, knowing the cold wood floor is going to cause me to wish [again] I had placed my slippers close to the ladder.

The socks I took off just yesterday are there though, so I pick them up, grab my bathrobe for warmth, miss the one creaky floor board, slip by Mom’s open door, and down the hallway into the bathroom.  Then I peek around the doorway into the kitchen.

There he is, the coffee grounds already smelling up the kitchen in warm, misty perking sounds, blurp, blik blick, blurpblikblick, and again, I am the FIRST one to see such a smile, finger raised to mouth, in mime of shhhhh.

His long thin legs clad in ironwear jeans, his white T-shirt showing wear but smelling like Old Spice and sleep, I sit on his lap for my morning hug, and feel the bones of his back under my little girl hands as the squeeze and hug is tight, and long.  Then, “well, Sunshine, let’s get our coffee” whispered, to not wake the others, not just yet.

His black, and mine, milk with some coffee…then out onto the patio, where he wipes California fog off the wood chair with his huge old blue farmer’s handkerchief, and we watch the hills to see which of us doesn’t blink as the Sun makes its debut.  Who will see the first hummingbird?  Soft girl questions and quiet Dad answers fill the air and do not disturb the birds.  Foggy smells and bottlebrush flower smells mingle with coffee steam.

Distinct thoughts within my mind [capture this moment, right here, right now, never let go] speak so loud as to have obscured that last response, and I look at him and he just...smiles.

The memories start early, before the sun is up, and I know he is still with me, every morning.


[This message has been edited by Sunshine (03-11-2004 10:20 AM).]

Susan Caldwell
Member Rara Avis
since 12-27-2002
Posts 8464
Florida


195 posted 03-11-2004 07:44 AM       View Profile for Susan Caldwell   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Susan Caldwell

Karilea~

I got to work a bit early this morning and read what you wrote...

Do you know how lucky you are to have had such a wonderful Dad?  I know you do..

God, how I have ached all my life to have a Dad that I can hug...

Mornin' by the way!  
scorpio
Member Ascendant
since 10-02-2002
Posts 5709
right...there


196 posted 03-11-2004 08:43 AM       View Profile for scorpio   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for scorpio

What a fascinating thread of memories!!!  Ladies, your stories are wonderful reads.  Thank you  for sharing and remembering.

believe in what your heart feels...

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


197 posted 03-11-2004 08:46 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Susan...I did.  And I love sharing him with those who missed out.  He would have liked that very much.

Scorpio, please, don't be a stranger.  In fact?  Join in, if you will.  I'm sure you have a story or two of that sleeve of yours.

[I'm not even going to ask Serenity if she minds, 'cause I know she doesn't!]
Susan Caldwell
Member Rara Avis
since 12-27-2002
Posts 8464
Florida


198 posted 03-11-2004 09:45 AM       View Profile for Susan Caldwell   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Susan Caldwell

Okay Karen, you made me start thinking about bootcamp and well..crap...I am formulating in my mind (only because work has me running today)....but I am working on it!  

Anybody else been to bootcamp?

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


199 posted 03-11-2004 10:03 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Does Camp Fire Girls count?  
 
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