Shopping with Mom

I remember our solo shopping trips to K-Mart.
It was just for a couple of hours
And I was my mom’s shopping buddy,
Helping to push the cart
and being surrounded by endless options
available in the aisles.
A girl could get lost for an hour or two
Just browsing and dreaming in the toy department.

After our shopping was complete,
We would go get an Italian grinder to share.
It was always a highlight and bittersweet
Because it meant our shopping trip was 
coming to an end.
Plus, shopping always gives me an appetite.
And not just for the potential goods and wares
But the fulfillment that each item promises.

I wonder what memories I’m creating today
That my children will cherish into their adulthood.
We never know what impression will make its mark
When we’re living the moment in real-time as it occurs.
It’s only in hindsight and reflection
That our memories get formed and shaped
Later to be accessed again at a future date.
To be determined.
We never know when a scent, a sound or a view 
will recall that memory back into focus
to embody that time and space once again.


Remember (part 2)

I don’t remember being born
or how I came to be.
I arrived and here I am.

I don’t remember the 
very early years,
So dependent on my mom.
Her love, her safety
The spaces we occupied.

My first memory I remember
is when I was two.
My siblings and I were playing
with a plastic toy house.
My uncle blew cigarette smoke
through the second-story windows.
It was such a delight
to see the shape, the form
the floating vapors
that defied gravity.

I remember winters of
sledding down the hill
in the backyard
on my mom’s childhood
Flying Arrow sled.
The joy and momentum
of the downhill slope.

I remember our swing set
with metal frames and
hard plastic seats
that brought me to far away
places only in my mind.

I remember learning to
roller skate for the first time.
Clinging to the side wall
as I found my balance,
my courage, and eventually
my confidence to skate
on my own with grace
and speed.

There are so many 
moments that I may
not remember.
But the ones I do 
are cherished. 
And they connect me
to my siblings and
stand the test of time
as they shaped and formed
who I am today.

Childhood Object

My pink bike with the banana seat was my most treasured Christmas present. I couldn’t wait to take it for a spin with the training wheels. We had a long driveway perfectly safe for learning balance and feet coordination. Never veering too close to the busy street. My mom‘s attention to help me learn was unwavering.

Soon the training wheels were a deterrent. I couldn’t go as fast as my strong capable legs wanted to go. My older brother’s mongoose bike mocked my wicker basket with the burgundy flower while I took my doll for a slow ride.

The training wheels were removed. Fear: Can I do it? It was no longer up to my mom to teach me. I was on my own for the first time. And it seemed to come to me so easily, so natural like riding a two wheeler was a birthright. So I rode grooves into the driveway.

Oh, the places I’d go if only in my imagination. Especially during those long summers when we had nowhere to go. I went on adventures to places in my dreams like Rocky Point or Disney. Places I longed to go. My imagination held no bounds or borders. I could come and go as I pleased.

Here there was no map only the compass of my mind and heart. We were free. A first taste of independence and proof that I was more than capable to learn, grow and expand across the wild imagination of my mind.