Changes

My daughter's house is almost finished. She talked to her Realtor and it looks like she may be ready to close within six weeks. We've been shopping for appliances and housewares. It's fun shopping for a new home, but there are things that I'm going to miss once she and my grandson move out.

No more little feet running to meet me at the door with a big grin and wrapping his little arms around me. "Maw-maw's home!" It makes me feel like a rock star to be given such treatment.

I'm going to miss having a little boy's room in my house, even with toys scattered about. And I'll miss folding his little jeans and screen-printed pajamas, which even a two-year old has favorites. I'll miss the beating of the drum set, stepping over the Legos, and  Buzz Light Year, "From here to infinity!" Can you say that I'll miss "Toy Story" (1,2, & 3). I'll miss playing hide-and-seek, but I can't say that I'll miss all the piggy back rides...there is a limit as to what this middle-aged body can do.

But I will miss my daughter's company and staying up late on a weekend, watching a movie and eating popcorn, even though most of the time we fall fast asleep on the sofa and loveseat.
I'll miss the smell of dinner already cooked when I come home, and groceries already picked up from the store.

Yes, my house has been a little crowded and a little messy with my daughter and her son living here, but I have survived. A new home will be exciting for her, and I'll have them come over on Friday nights, when we can stay up late and watch movies, eat popcorn and listen to Buzz Light Year, "From here to infinity!"

A Mother and Her Son

Here is one of my favorite childhood poems, from a Scholastic book of poetry, now old and yellowed, and here is the pencil drawing I made of Abe Lincoln. I couldn't believe that I saved both all of these years. I still love Poetry, and the beauty of language, and wonder whether children still read and memorize poems in school, such as "Nancy Hanks."

"Nancy Hanks"     by RoseMary Benet

If Nancy Hanks
came back as a ghost,
Seeking news of
what she loved most,
She'd ask first,
"Where's my son?
What's happened to Abe?
What's he done?

"Poor little Abe
Left alone
Except for Tom,
Who's a rolling stone;
He was only nine
The year I died.
I remember still
How hard he cried.

"Scraping along
In a little shack,
With hardly a shirt
To cover his back,
And a prairie wind
To blow him down,
Or pinching times
If he went to town.

"You wouldn't know
About my son?
Did he grow tall?
Did he have fun?
Did he learn to read?
Did he get to town?
Do you know his name?
Did he get on?"

Down a Country Road

 Snow never stays on the ground this long in the South.

It's been a week since the big snowfall of 2011.

Barn scenes are my favorite.

A snow-covered bridge

On heading home, a beautiful sunset. Icing on the cake.

The Beginning of Days

How many days has it been?

How many months?

How many years?

And yet it seems like only yesterday

that you were here

But time has sped by, raced ahead

to fill the empty spaces you left behind

The days have passed into months

The months have passed into years

Like small streams that run into rivers

and empty into the ocean

of our collective sorrows

And days accumulate into Time

And Time is a balm 

like bread to the hungry

and water to the thirsty

Time nourishes our broken heart

By counting the days behind us

When finally, there are so many

We no longer feel the fresh pain

of the beginning of days

(c) Anita M. Ashworth 2011