Tag Archives: aunt

The Summer Treat

children, Humor, Poetry, Summer, , , , , , , , ,

There’s sweat above my lip
That drips upon my tongue
My hair is sticking to my skin
And everything feels undone

My mom said to turn off TV
But what else can we do
The neighbors pool is fenced and locked
They fled to look for cool

I cannot play outside for long
Without melting in this heat
Shade from our tree is taken
By Great Aunt Bernadette

She sits and waves her fan
Back and forth before her face
She gave us candy in a bag
From a very special place

The heat and the humidity
I am truly sad to say
Made one gigantic glob of it
That we had to throw away

I cannot even go barefoot
Into our box of sand
It burns between my toes
And clings where I can’t stand

Dad said that after dinner
We would visit our favorite shop
Til then I will simply have to dream
Of how great it will be to stop

And look at all those flavors
In line waiting for our treats
With all the people just like me
On ice-cream soon will feast

Magic

children, Christmas, Family, Love, Memories, motherhood, Poetry, , , , , , , , , , , ,

My cousin, 7, said the Easter bunny was a hoax
What is a hoax I wondered, a giant rabbit maybe

The boy behind me in the 2nd grade passed a note
It read, Only babies believe in Santa Claus, do you?

My brother, 11, said the tooth fairy didn’t lose her way
She may come tonight, he scoffed, but she isn’t real

Each time these truths were forced upon my ears
I grew up and was uncomfortable in my little girl heart

That little girl’s heart didn’t disappear for good, it lay
In wait to give what it could in the way of magic

Tucking secret presents under a tree, hiding candy filled
baskets, stealthily placing quarters under sleeping heads

Even if sometimes the magic isn’t what was expected
Maybe wasn’t quite the first choice, or even the second

Sometimes what isn’t real, those fairy dust creations
Make the uglier truths just a bit easier to bare, for both

If you tell me they are hoaxes, unreal, and only for babies
I will understand with my big girl brain that knows the truth

But my heart, beating as an aunt, and now as a mom
Will say those who don’t believe, don’t ever truly receive

I Wait to Talk to a Teacher

children, Family, Fear, Love, Parenting, Winter, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

We are both waiting, quietly observing
She calm, her coat zipped right to the top
Her pink suede boots with satin ribbon laces, dangle
Where is the aunt, her mom, maybe dad, today
The secretaries try the numbers, no answers
One mentions the books she can look at
Does she want to unzip her coat, another asks
You look uncomfortable with it up so high
No, it isn’t hurting me, see? Her chin held high
While she waits sweetly, her blonde curly hair
A wild frame for her little angelic face that stares
Straight ahead, what thoughts behind still eyes
Picking up a book she only holds its sleeve out
Where are the pictures she wonders aloud, not
To me specifically, just for anyone, she is now
Concerned about where they might be,
The people who love her, I touch the book
Explaining it is kept nice by that outside cover
She leafs uncomfortably through its pages
The phone rings, She’s right here, is the response
The secretary indicates, dad is out in the parking lot
Come on, says the secretary, I will walk you out to him
She doesn’t move. She stares ahead at the window
I see him now, too, a young dad smiling, amiable
They say, is that your daddy,
When he comes through the office door She turns her head, hesitates
Taking a big long look, she nods jumping off the chair
She is the sweetest little thing, I tell him
The secretary says, yes, I could take her home with me
Our reminders to her of her specialness, and to dad
Please don’t forget her someday when there is no
Warm office, lovely secretaries, and a mom who waits

For Anonymous – The Importance of Family

children, Family, Fear, Love, Parenting, , , , , , , , , , ,

They were standing in the kitchen.
Why is it serious family events
always reveal themselves in our kitchens?
He had a large lump on his neck.
My dad feeling it, for my mom
Agreeing, it seemed awfully big
For a swollen lymph gland
It wasn’t mumps.
Mumps didn’t look like that.
This, the only time I saw
My daddy look scared
Our mom lying face down
On her bed sobbing.

Bad news I heard mom tell
My aunt Alice on the phone
My brother, cancer, he would
Have to go away to get better
Their only hope.
Brett would need surgery.
My parents needed
To be with him
I didn’t realize then
The big long zipper
On my brothers chest
Could have killed him.
How did he get through that?

Driving up in the
Light blue Buick singing
That’s the Night that the Lights Went Out in Georgia.
Tim’s favorite song.
Brett would come down to see us,
I think it was the lobby.
We drove the 90 minutes
Back in the dark
Sunday nights; him alone, us
Squeezed into the back seat.
Not knowing really
What was happening
He couldn’t come with us, yet

We other five cared for by
My mom’s sisters, brothers.
Adopted for weeks at a time.
Alice made me eat my vegetables.
She made me stop
Sucking my finger, by my side
At my second first communion
She makes sure a person
Knows they aren’t alone.
Years later when he got sick again
I would look at him
In that hospital bed
Fighting for another day

I understood how scared
At 13 he must have been
I couldn’t bare him
To be alone this time.
He told me how he hated
When he was left alone
Back then because
Five other kids were home
He needed us then
Now he deserves better
Than what we can do
Even when sometimes
The need to help was too much.

His wife always at his side
Until morning came
To adjust his breathing mask
Keeping track of so much
Informing of the details
No one else remembers
In a hospital, but
Shouldn’t they,
Mostly, like Alice, so he knew
He wasn’t alone
We didn’t stop at the lobby
This time, he didn’t come home
I miss my sweet big brother