Gratitude * Sunday
Sunday’s heartfelt tradition.
A time to slow down, to reflect, to be grateful.
A list of gratitudes, our gratefulness feeds one another.
Quoted from Taryn Wilson
Joining the Gratitude Sunday Tradition at Wooly Moss Roots.
[The Wilson’s had adventures last week with a safe journey]
Thunderstorm clears the
air, electrifies the sky,
rain sings on the earth.
I’ve been writing about my relationship with my mom for twenty years, since my son was born and I had the opportunity to go back to college at the age of 39. I don’t always remember what I write; I’m clever like that. Most of what I wrote about her – poems, prose poetry, auto-biographical essays – I shared with her; many of them she framed and put on the walls around her house. She was able to attend my Senior Reading required for my Bachelor’s Degree in creative writing. More than half of what I wrote and read was about her and us.
Around Mom’s house are many boxes. They are labeled with the names of her children and grandchildren. She knew what each of us liked/loved or were passionate about. Mom had this knack of making us all feel special while at the same time pushing us to the limits of our capabilities and potentials. These boxes are full of treasures she’d been saving or found at garage sales, each box specifically for the named individual. As the boxes are found my brother has been giving them to the rightful owner. I wonder if he will save any to give out at Christmas. One of my boxes is full of the poems and prose I wrote and shared with her.
Today I share one of the oldest poems I wrote to her, back in 1995; from the date it was a Mother’s Day gift. My son was still small and I had started my non-traditional college career. I’ve never made much money to buy things with and I don’t like to buy things just to buy things and support the out-of-control capitalism that is American culture. Who needs more things? Instead I gave her my heart, through my words. She was always my biggest, and sometimes my only, cheerleader.
You reminded me the other day
you are well-read
and when I thought about what I said,
well, I hadn’t meant to offend.
But what it made me realize
was though we live two different lives,
you have become a friend.
Under your parental scrutiny
out pours the usual litany
with so much for me to defend;
made different by experience
and the same through inheritance,
we have so much to comprehend.
You stabilized, reality-checked,
encouraged me to use my intellect.
My success, you said, was predestined.
Underneath it all, over and above,
fired by embryonic, enduring love,
it was me you championed.
Let me tell you this, my dear,
I love your love for me, but I fear
I must amend
your gossamer image of my success
with a practical version that won’t be less
than your love will attend.
I am a product of your all-abiding love
yet more than that – part and parcel of –
and while we don’t always agree, I won’t pretend
to know you as well as you know me.
You reminded me the other day.
Flower Watch – blooming attractions in my neighborhoods this week – radiant faces of dahlias, great head sized pink ones, and cabbage headed pink and yellow ones, and fist sized yellow striped with red ones, and purple pink tipped ones, single petaled yellow ones, and tiny little red pom pom ones; so many shapes, sizes, ruffles and petals, and color in this great autumn producer.
Currently Reading – The Obituary Writer (fiction novel; still getting in some summer reading) by Ann Hood; All Your Worth: The Ultimate Lifetime Money Plan (social politics) by Elizabeth Warren and Amelia Warren Tyagi; Fat Chance: Beating the Odds Against Sugar, Processed Food, Obesity, and Disease (nutrition science and politics) by Robert H. Lustig; How to See Yourself as You Really Are (enlightenment) by the Dalai Lama; Little House on the Prairie (“fictionalized” autobiography) by Laura Ingalls Wilder (I never read this series as a kid). Yes, concurrently.
This week I have been grateful for:
- Knowing how to be a cautious and courteous driver. I try to make sure I’m never in a hurry or too hot. Both bad for driving.
- Having avoided the several incautious and discourteous drivers who nearly crashed my car while I was out grocery shopping. SEVERAL. More than three.
- The pretty vase of wedding roses that still survive, downsized from the two vases full that came home last week.
- The last day of August. Always feels like the last official day of summer because it’s the last day of the “summer months”. Even though it’s still three weeks to autumn. I got to work at my place of employment and it was a strangely productive day.
- The first day of September. So many changes this month, back to school (whether you or your kids go or not, watch out for the kids WHEN YOU ARE DRIVING), the autumn equinox, leaves, weather, sports, the abundance of the garden. I’m not very skilled at changes; they always come around way too fast for me to keep up. I still have spring cleaning to do to get ready for winter.
- The warm weather we are continuing to have in Oregon. Sometimes it lasts through October and then when autumn hits it slams us. Almost feels like we have autumn then first winter, and second winter after Christmas.
- A very much needed three day break at home.
- Getting a nice form letter from Suzanne Bonamici, one of my legislators. At least I know they registered my concerns in their files.
Hoping you have a lovely week.
Namaste. Peace. Blessings.