Simplicity Over A Tub Full of Memory

purple-flowerThank you to all who wrote notes of encouragement to me about creating my daughter’s scrapbook for her graduation, but it’s not going to happen by Saturday.  While delving into the tubs full of construction paper art and cheesy class photos, the amount of time needed to turn this into an artful masterpiece was not available. The emotional fortitude needed to complete it without being overcome by nostalgic sadness was also not available. So, a simpler method became the logical choice…write a poem from my own stored collection of moments.

While visiting colleges in Texas over Spring Break 2012, an early morning moment of startling beauty presented itself along I-35. Unfortunately, my daughter was asleep and missed it entirely so I’ve decided to give this moment to her for her high school graduation gift, along with a far too expensive bottle of Vera Wang’s Princess perfume. We all encounter these “unforgettable moments,” but then we forget them. Carry around a tiny journal in your pocket, use your iphone, find your own way to record them so later when the stars align just right, you can capture the image and share it. With so much digital waste filling space, it feels good to step back and write something down on paper, hold it in your crafty hands and then pass it on. A moment missed, but later realized can be a simple gift of love.

Bluebonnet Girl
College visits come, a prerequisite to growing up,
while garden tea parties fade as seasons extinguish
alongside summer camps, baby ballet slippers, reading logs and AP tests.
The future is wide open on
I-35 north.
Open handed sky, arching this
Texas highway with
a ribboned morning
of March mist,
unveiling sun glinting streams,
upon cattle backs.
Live Oaks stretching out their green shoot shadows
against clammy red clay.
6:30 a.m. and you’re sleeping through it.
Acres of bluebonnets set a cool backdrop
behind your snowy white profile,
fresh faced, mouth dangling, head bobbing, damask hair cascading
freely into the unknown.
Your dreams float across the morning,
like a pale arabesque,
too beautiful to miss,
waiting for the Welcome Center to come.

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