(What was left of my parents' 2-story home after the EF five Tornado that hit this past May)It's time. I think I can finally let this poem go. I wrote it as part of my letting-go process. I guess I've been kind of nervous to let it go because it helped me let go, but I'm ready.
"Blow Away"
The rust-colored bricks, its dark green siding, and the improved garage roof Dad put on.
The long, curved sidewalk, the wild flower beds, and the evergreens that had grown so tall.
The soft living room carpet, mom’s hand-made blankets, and those big East windows that let in the sun.
Grandma’s last quilt, Grandpa Doc’s pocket watch, and Great-Aunt Rofkins’ China buffet.
Our dinning room table, the print above the piano, the souvenir tiles mom had hung in a row.
My brothers’ boyhood toys, Mom’s Christmas pearls, and the skis Dad waxed with such care.
Mom’s wedding dress, the prom gown we both wore, and my first emerald ring.
Five years worth of my journals, four sets of baby pictures, and exotic trinkets from adventures abroad.
My favorite napping spot, my thinking place, and my refuge from the world.
All stripped away in just sixty seconds, never to be seen again.
I know it’s just stuff-- that our family made it;
I’m grateful for that everyday.
But, it still hurts to think
Of my childhood home and all that went with it,
And I hope that pain
Blows Away
Soon.
The long, curved sidewalk, the wild flower beds, and the evergreens that had grown so tall.
The soft living room carpet, mom’s hand-made blankets, and those big East windows that let in the sun.
Grandma’s last quilt, Grandpa Doc’s pocket watch, and Great-Aunt Rofkins’ China buffet.
Our dinning room table, the print above the piano, the souvenir tiles mom had hung in a row.
My brothers’ boyhood toys, Mom’s Christmas pearls, and the skis Dad waxed with such care.
Mom’s wedding dress, the prom gown we both wore, and my first emerald ring.
Five years worth of my journals, four sets of baby pictures, and exotic trinkets from adventures abroad.
My favorite napping spot, my thinking place, and my refuge from the world.
All stripped away in just sixty seconds, never to be seen again.
I know it’s just stuff-- that our family made it;
I’m grateful for that everyday.
But, it still hurts to think
Of my childhood home and all that went with it,
And I hope that pain
Blows Away
Soon.
6 comments:
I'm so sorry this happened.
I can't fathom...I just can't fathom it.
I just read your comment to my post - I too was thinking how strange the coincidence...great minds for sure. ;)
i just let the cursor blink, not sure which letters to hit - what words would be right.
Thank you!
Your poem is lovely. e e cummings would appreciate its shape. The prompt for a daily writing blog yesterday was "first day." I thought of writing about my first day as a widower, but I didn't. Your poem is like that.A poem of great personal loss. A line from my blog on Oct 31st says, "Loved ones may pass, but our love for them lives on." A home certainly is loved. And missed. Forever. (The pain fades, but never goes away.)
Thank you. Thanks for making it feel like an okay place for me to let this go. It means a lot. Thanks also for allowing me to see what you all have let go too; seeing that has helped me more than I can explain. Thanks for being human and helping me feel human.
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