July 3, 2003
It was so hard to leave, hard to head back to this deadening place.
My daughter and her son are so full of life and love.
I slept better on their couch than I do in my own bed. I ate less and better. I laughed and hugged a lot more.
It was so hard to leave. I was finally establishing myself as someone the little one knows and likes. The three of them will be coming here to visit for his first birthday in a couple of weeks. I wonder if he will remember me.
It bothers me how much about my kids’ childhoods I have forgotten. I don’t remember their first steps, their first words. I don’t remember if they got the same kind of ear infections that my grandson seems to be getting. I mostly remember being sad. I wasn’t ready to be a mother back then. My daughter was soooo ready. She and her husband are the kinds of parents I wish I had been.
There’s an Open Mike poetry thing on Monday evening. I should go and read, like I used to – wear long, dangling earrings and the jeans that I hand painted and crocheted a border on. Get in the spotlight and remember how it feels to be that person I used to be.
On Monday, after my chiropractor session and after I call and try to get my mother an appointment with a vascular surgeon (she has a toe that she finally informed me is feeling numb – and this is after she’s been having terrible leg cramps) maybe I’ll go through my files and pull out some poems to read. Some poems to help me remember me by.
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Old Comments (4)
myrln on 03 Jul 2003
Remember Castleton. Remember Green Avenue, an apartment that once was a store. Remember a big, open front room with hardwood floor. Remember Melissa in knit booties standing with her back to the front door. Remember her setting sail toward the kitchen and us,everyone's arms outstretched. Remember the wonder the three felt at that first excursion. Sure you do, it's there, cast back. Remember.
Elaine on 04 Jul 2003
I remember the apartment, remember her in a little X-shaped walker, remember the high school students who visited on Halloween and didn't want to leave because they thought it was so cool that we were dressed in costumes. But I don't remember those first steps. Strange.
Kate S. on 06 Jul 2003
Wow, Elaine, I've been threatening to go crash a poetry slam for several years now, but never get around to it.
Let me know how it goes, the feelings you get back. I think it will feel warm and rejuvenating, like a splash in a warm waterfall, naked.
dzwonki polifoniczne nokia on 14 Jun 2004
Hmmmmm interesting !!!