Around Poem

I went back to college to get my Education degree in my late 30’s. I was a nontraditional student on a very traditional campus. Many universities have great programs to encourage older adults to return to school and get their degrees, but my alma mater did not. I was most definitely different. However, I was placed in a cohort with amazing students and they welcomed me as their “school mom.” I loved this part of my life during this time period. My capstone class right before graduating was creative writing. We were assigned an “Around” poem for our first writing. I’ll never forget sharing this with my classmates. I was very anxious to share my life experiences with this group of 20 somethings who had barely lived in my eyes. I felt so different in this setting and nearly let my fear of rejection get the best of me. But, I shared and they received and it was a very proud moment for this old school mom. I’d like to share that poem with you here. On a side note, I have done a lot more living since I wrote this poem…and I think I might write another one – and updated one in the near future.

Around 2006, I returned to school and was labeled non-traditional.

Around 1979, my oldest brother left home at the age of 16 without saying goodbye.

Around 1997, after 18 hours of labor, my first child came into the world.

Around 2007, on a bitter, cold morning, my Grandpa died.

Around 1975, I stood at the bus stop waiting for my first day of kindergarten…the bus never came.

Around 1993, I married my high school sweetheart.

Around 1974, I watched my dog Benji get hit by a car while I played in the front yard.

Around 2001, on an icy morning, I gave birth to my daughter.

Around 2008, I watched my brother’s son marry his high school sweetheart.

Around 2003, I walked my son to school fir his first day of kindergarten…we didn’t take any chances with the bus.

Around 1984, I kissed a boy for the first time – at the county fair. His name was Nick.

Around 2008, my high school sweetheart and I ended our 15-year marriage…at the breakfast table.

Around 2006, my son and I walked my daughter to school for her first day of kindergarten.

Around 1985, I had my heart broken for the first time.

Around 2008, I learned to be me again…still non-traditional.

It’s bittersweet to sit and reflect on all of those poignant moments that stick in my memory. It’s also comforting to know that I have been blessed with such a life. What moments would appear in your Around poem? I encourage you to take time to reflect and be thankful for this life today! Much love.

Carty – like party with a “C”

My baby girl recently turned twenty. She went on a girls’ trip with her closest friends and had the time of her life. Sadly, with everyone’s schedules, we didn’t have a big celebration, just a low key dinner out with her and Chris and myself. I loved the time with her, but I almost feel like I didn’t do enough to truly celebrate her twenty years here on earth. Carty is one of a kind for sure. Her full name is Caroline McCarty Smith. I was the last hold out – still calling her Caroline, until she gently told me I was the ONLY one who called her that and she really preferred Carty. When people would ask her how to spell it, she proudly said “It’s like party with a C,” and that sums her up perfectly.

Carty has grown into such a mature, responsible, fun young lady. I could not be more proud of who she is and how she lives each day. She is beautiful inside and out – and when I look at her now it’s hard to see the little tomboy who insisted on wearing her brother’s hand me down athletic shorts and t-shirts. In light of her recent jump from her teens to her twenties, I thought I would share a poem I wrote about her when she was little. I hope someday she will understand how much joy she brings to me and to this world.

Carty
She struts down the sidewalk
As if she was walking
The red carpet.

Even with grubby, skinned toes
And lollipopped, sticky fingers
She is prissy

Her stringy strands of dishwater blonde
Fall across her face,
Hiding her crystal blue eyes.

She is constant motion
Perfectly happy to play alone
Confident and absorbed in herself.

Oblivious to anyone’s world
But her own.
She is Carty

Zach

77251012_1068918693440446_4906038921999155200_nThe oldest of my five kids is Zach. He is finishing out his senior year at Otterbein University in Columbus, Ohio. I am quite certain this is not how he envisioned his final chapter of school going. Zach played football for the Cardinals, so during the fall I got to see him every single weekend – and it made my momma heart happy. Since we have all been under a stay at home order, I have not been able to see him. Many days I wished more than anything that he was here with the rest of us – to share in all of our family time. I know that he is with his own little family – his amazing girlfriend, Katie (superhero nurse), and their dog (my granddog) Archie. I know they are safe and happy – but I sure wish they were all here with us!

I wrote a poem about Zach when he was 12 years old. While so much has changed about my “little man” in the last decade, so much still remains the same. Here are those words from his childhood.

Zach

They call him
Mr. Intensity
On the field

But it fits
Him
In every way

He is passionate
And intense
Emotional and loyal

The kind of personality
That draws a crowd
And then entertains them

He is tender
And caring when
No one is looking

He will have his
Heart broken
Many times

But it will not
Change his intense
Caring nature

He is my
Little man
Zach

Zach is now a grown man who has not lost his intense, caring nature. He has survived a few heart breaks, and has found his forever love. He set goals and accomplished them. I know in the big picture, everything will be okay. But it’s hard to know he’s missing out on the end of college the way he had it pictured – saying goodbye to friends, parties, graduation, etc. But I also know that he is going to continue to do amazing things with the life he is building. And through it all, he will always be my Zach!

The Wonder of Spring

fullsizeoutput_6d7eI wonder if the blooming buds all around us
know what is going on
in the world they are entering?

I wonder if these sprigs of hope
know what their presence means to us
as we look at them from our windows.

I wonder if these emerging blossoms truly
know the joy they bring
to our scary, broken world.

The wonder of spring surrounds us,
envelops our fragile spirits and
promises us new life.

When I was a kid

Here I sit at my computer, feeling the need to express myself. Feeling the need to process through all that is happening in our world through words. I never imagined in my lifetime that I would be living through a statewide “lockdown.” So many emotions flood my heart and mind. Writing is how I cope. But at the same time, I don’t want my words to be discouraging or depressing. I truly am doing all I can to remain positive. I know that my children are feeling anxious (like me) but I don’t want to feed into their fears. My job is to calm their chaos, not create more. I want to be their safety. When they look to me, I want them to see me smiling and finding the positive in all of it.

Struggling to find my voice this afternoon, I turned to my decade old portfolio and dove in. I found a poem that I think is appropriate to share today.

When I was a kid…

When I was a kid,
My mom gave me a pair
Of rose-colored glasses

They were a gift
And I had to learn to use them
In the dark

You really have to
Focus to see things
In the dark

These glasses, they reflect
And they correct
My distorted vision

I put them on
To find the positive
In every situation

When I was a kid,
My mom gave me a pair
Of rose-colored glasses…

And I never lost them.

Yellow

Since the day is so gray and dreary today, I thought this poem that I penned a decade ago would be a nice bright distraction. I remember the assignment from my creative writing class like it was yesterday. I was instructed to go on a “color walk” and to note everything of one particular color that caught my attention. It was the perfect spring day on campus in Oxford. I walked for hours – kind of lost myself in the color walk. Here is the piece of writing that came from that day.

Yellow

I am the day and the warmth
The harshly painted curb, edging
the street – corralling it.
I swing on a wire,
directing and signaling.
I am letters on a shirt,
letters on a bag,
a convertible speeding along
a street sign – shoe string
hair band – arm band
I am the tiny beak of a hungry bird.

I am yellow.