Wednesday, September 19, 2012


This year I am a senior and will be heading off to college in a few short months. It is really hard to believe that my life has lead me down the twisting path to my senior year in high school. This poem is set in an old woman’s point of view as she thinks back about her children’s lives and how they ended up the way they were. And though the woman in the chair is wrinkled with age, her thoughts and feelings reflect mine as I look back on my life.

A gnarled hand lays upon the pictures
The owner asleep, as if she wishes to go back in time
And experience the memories once more
She remembers her first child
Blond hair and brown eyes, a smiling little girl
She remembers a boy with a head of shaggy black hair
She remembers his first tee ball game
The crack of the bat that signaled a run for her precious son
She remembers her daughter’s first ballet practice
Lining up against the wall with nervous parents, watching her gallop across the room
She remembers their first haircut
The tiny sliver of hair that lay in the box on her dresser
She remembers the drips on her finger from the cone holding their first ice cream
She remembers the first set of Duplos spilled on the floor as her son crawls through them
She remembers their first steps into her arms
Then the memories come faster
She remembers the first day of kindergarten
Sending her off for a whole day, five days a week
She remembers the expeditions she took with her son
She remembers the days when they went to the same elementary school
Coming home bearing grades and art projects
She remembers the sleepless night before her first day of middle school
His first day in third grade
She remembers the tears and the frustration as they go through life
She remembers her first day at high school, his at middle school
Taking pictures together by the big tree before school
She remembers graduation, hats thrown in the air, diplomas clutched by eager hands
She remembers the day she dropped her daughter off at college
Left home with her junior son
She remembers the day he left, too
And she remembers coming home to a quiet house
And soon marriages were planned and babies were being had
And she was a grandmother
She remembers watching her children turn into adults,
And realizing she is not that young anymore
But most of all she remembers, as a tear slid down her cheek
The nights they spent together in one bed, as she read a book out loud
And she knew she loved them, and they loved her

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