The doorway opens.
Heartbeat to heartbeat
Seeds clutched in my hand
Waiting to be sowed
Not knowing what lies ahead.

Seeds are like ideas and words.
Some have a way of 
Flowing into the heart and mind.
Germinating into core beliefs,
A shared memory or story.
Where it originated
Sometimes a mystery.

Seeds can root into an entire story
whose words and thoughts
can empower and create growth.
Some stories have to be
Pruned back to allow in more light
And space for new growth to take shape,
To embody and take root.

It all starts with a little seed.
A seed in my heart
that germinates into thought,
Speech and the written word.
Those fruits can then be passed
From me to you.
An offering from the heart.


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.

Let the past be the past

The past is the past 
thankfully and sorrowfully so.
We have today's gifts and connections,
conversations and hearts to grow.

Let go of yesterday's hurts.
They cannot touch you here.
No matter their lull, their yearning,
their harsh or loving memory.

Let's make new ones today
so that our wells may overflow
with a life well-loved and well-lived.

Let the past be the past.
It cannot touch me here in the now.
I know this, yet sometimes need a reminder
While ruminating and caught in a memory.

To snap back to reality.
To be nostalgic is okay.
Let's make today a great day.


Remember the scent of the lilacs.
How the air just embodied their aroma
and drifted it into the windows
into my lungs.

Remember when they were teeny tiny buds.
How 5-year old Lilly marveled at their small size. 
Little purple bumps bursting from the green.

Remember the Easter lilies
and this was the first year
I got so low to the ground
I could actually smell them for the first time.

Remember the towering orange iris. 
Remember the hearty rosebush. 
Remember the mimosa tree that
once stood proud, colorful and fragrant. 
Now an empty shell.
Bare branches.
The weakened trunk sways with a gentle push.

Remember the dogwood’s white blossoms
and Lilly called the neighbor’s pink blossoms 
“flower snow” as they fell
and covered the ground in small piles of soft pink.

Remember the woodpecker, the cardinal, 
the new birds that decided to stop by for a visit.
Remember the bunny rabbit, like Old Faithful, 
arrives around dinner time 
looking for her evening meal as well.

Remember the hawk perched on top
of the playset as a squirrel huddled
and hid under the child’s chair
unmoving and the hawk ever patient.

Remember the blue jays that harassed 
and chased that hawk away
and the squirrel that timidly crawled 
commando style and lived another day.

Remember the sweet breeze from the ocean
even reaching here not so close to the shore
and how I marveled at the salty refreshing air.

Remember the first kiss.
The special rock overlooking the bay
and our life began together.
Remember that tender beginning love 
is still here under the surface.
A beloved memory but always here in my heart.