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.


This house

This house of ours
It is with love
that we share 
the memories,
the appliances and
the furniture.

We invite our hearts
arms open wide.
I am yours
and you are mine.

The furniture may change
through the years,
Along with the appliances
and technology.
The love is constant
like the walls that
shield us from
the storms.

When I am with you,
I know true acceptance.
There is no place 
for shame or blame
of past circumstance.
All are welcome to
embody this place.

The walls may hold
all the memories:
the proposal,
the wedding,
and contain
our growing family
as our hearts swell
in this shared space.

It may feel small at times.
When we feel there’s an
overabundance of toys
and gadgets.
There just doesn’t seem
to be any free space
to just be.

It is a manifestation of
our abundant love and
ability to provide our
children with 
cherished memories,
A foundation of
that security,
A love they can carry
with them 
into their own
future houses.

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.