The question is posed as to whether I like fiction or non-fiction. I like both. But my heart belongs to poetry. I love songs and haiku and Emily Dickinson. I would much rather hear a hymn as listen to LaHaye.
When I was a little girl, I had dreams of becoming a poet-laureate. I would be known the world round and I would have respect and honor and all the things that eluded me at the age of seven. So poor then. The ridicule of the Gaston Foster classroom. I’d show them.
But I didn’t. I grew up to be just me. I have come to realize that it’s okay, though. I became a mother, which was so much more rewarding than any earthly honors could have awarded me. To hear my seven-year-old ask me, “Mom? How did you get to be so perfect?” and to realize that I asked my mother the same question when I was likely the same age both broke my heart and cheered me beyond measure
Which brings me back to poetry. It was the first thing I read to my boys. The nursery rhymes we rehearsed together are enduring memories of Jack Sprat, Little Miss Muffett, and Jack and Jill.
I may not have become the poet laureate, but I was the poet laureate of my children’s lives, and I guess that’s what counts the most.
I like the idea of connecting with other creatives. Thanks for the opportunity. I’m looking forward to getting to know who else is out there and seeing what comes next.
In a moment
The world was different.
Clouds closed in.
My eyes couldn’t see
The ground upon which
I placed my feet.
In a moment,
Drowning in a sea of tears,
Unfolding before the
Broken vessel bleeding out
My soul, and I feared
In a moment,
That once was life
Will become Humpty Dumpty
Only you won’t be here
To here me read it.
It was just a stupid letter.
One I should never have opened.
It didn’t belong to me.
I should have left it back there in the street, ignored.
Why do I keep doing these things?
So, do I send it on?
How can I, now that he belongs to me?
We are taught that Heaven is much like earth, only perfect; that in the Celestial Kingdom (see Doctrine and Covenants 88) we will be among our families and we won’t lose our association with them.
So, I wonder if tonight you are celebrating, Junior. Do you have mylar balloons and perfectly-iced cakes? Do you play games and music and do you dance, or do you just hang out and enjoy the company of all the family you didn’t know here? I know Aunt Margie and Uncle John are there. You remember them. Aunt Margie took this picture! And your brother is there with you, just like in the picture, by your side. You’re certainly not alone!
I’m sure that, whatever you’re doing, you’re the life of the party! You always were. With those chocolate-brown, almost black eyes, and those long eyelashes, you were always a hit with the ladies! And you were quite the charmer, too! You could sweet-talk your way out of almost any situation you got yourself into, and that was a lot! But you weren’t a troublemaker, you were just restless and so curious.
I wonder what you would look like at 38. You weren’t even 15 when you died. The world is a much different place now than it was then. You would have embraced it all, with all the latest tech. It would have kept that ADHD brain of yours quite occupied. Perhaps you would have even done something in the technology industry.
I do know a few things. You don’t have your mother’s cake…the chocolate one that didn’t even require eggs, that you were so disappointed I didn’t make for you the one year I finally had enough money to buy you one. I know that I no longer have to worry about what this world can do to you, that you are beyond harm. And I know that you are the joy of this mother’s heart.