October 6, 2008

I am sitting at my desk wondering what I might write about this morning  as I hear the honking geese flying overhead out my open window. Several entries ago, I talked about the geese flying south when the frost was on the pumpkin and cool air was in the wind,  and wondered why I could not also, just up and fly south. This poem came to me as I sat here wondering.  

ESCAPE by Gretta Barclay

The geese are gathering

Out my office window

This morning

Honking and hollering

As they fly overhead

Across the cool autumn sky

Summer is over, they scream

to their V lined mates

And I want to scream too

Cold weather is coming

The seem to say,

And we must be gone

To a warmer place

When winter comes

"Can I fly along?"

I cry

"Yes you can

If you can fly..."

Oh my

Why them

And why not I ?

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I was also thinking about my mother this morning who would have just celebrated a birthday if she were still alive. How important mothers are in their children's lives, I think, as I watch my daughter Kerri, and daughter Michelle struggle to be the best moms they can be to their children, and for Michelle, the children of her significant other. It is such a 24-7 kind of committment to be available to them even if you work out of the home. They are always number one, and always on their mother's minds. I often wonder how Sara Palin is able to travel so much in pursuit of the vice-presidency with the nations troubles having to come first for her right now, and how hard that must be for her as a mother especially having an infant with special needs at home. Years ago I wrote a poem in honor of my mother who stayed home and raised seven children pretty damn well, if I must say so. O.K. I did just say so, and now for the poem....

MY MOTHER, MARY HELEN

I remember my mother

In the basement

In front of the washing machine

With loads of wash

Darks, whites, and in-betweens

For seven children

And one very meticulous father

Who wanted everything very clean

I remember my mother

Behind the ironing board

Pressing Peter Pan blouses

For brown school uniforms

And sewing on lost buttons

And oh, what she couldn't do

With left-overs

And mystery stew

I remember my mother

Behind the wheel of our ol station-wagon

Seven kids packed in tight

Day and night

Off to art museums, skating rinks,

horse-back riding and tennis lessons

Doing it all

At her suggestion and direction

But mostly,

I rember my mother 

Telling a story

And laughing heartily at her own joke

My mother loved a party

And any reason to celebrate

She seemed always to be happy

No matter the weather

Or problems of the day

She would always say,

"Life is what you make it

It's really up to you...."

What a legacy she left

For all of us alive today.