I wrote this poem just about a year ago, leaving for college for the first time. And now, a year later, I feel just about the same way. So, I'm reiterating the point.
Packing
"I guess it's time!"
said my childhood playmates
as I laid them in cardboard graves
and wiped a tear from their sightless
plastic eyes.
"Time to grow up",
sighed the clip-on earrings,
the fun old gloves from Grammy's world,
when people still wore hats and time
moved more slowly.
"Knew it must come"
nodded my purple parasol wisely,
the battered remnants of a forgotten
trip to disneyland, my faded cursive name
silently nodding in agreement.
So many pages filled with doodles and dreams,
boxes of days and years,
countless laughs emitting dustily,
but lapsing inevitably into
mournful coughs.
Drawers of memories,
prodigal socks, hair ties, and buttons,
dust accummulation of ages,
annoying but endearing.
Isn't it funny how dust,
on a good day, makes you
sneeze.
But when "it's time," all
it does is make you cry?
You know you'll miss that
dust,
The splattered hot chocolate on the
wall, never quite cleaned up,
the books always on the
shelf, but never quite read.
"Yes, it's time"
gently urges my blankie,
the embodiment of 17 years' worth
of pleasant slumber,
something I can't quite give up and
am relieved that I don't have to.
Anna
3 comments:
Beautiful. You're so talented, but then, you always have been.
p.s. I have an old stuffed dog I received when I was 3 years old, and when I left for college I kissed him goodbye, set him on my bed (in Spokane), shut my bedroom door, and began walking down the hall. I walked a few feet and stopped. I ran back, grabbed my puppy and... Seven years later it is next to my bed in my drawer. I take him out every once in a while when I need a hug from my childhood. So keep your blankie.
Oh Abby! I will keep my blankie! (Jena took hers on her honeymoon) I'm so glad we have our puppies and our blankies to keep us a little bit more sane in this childhoodless world.
Yes, a toast to all the torn, frayed, colored on, chewed on, drooled on, stitched up (with mismatched thread)puppies and blankies in the world! Hurray. And once your goblet is drained, reflect on how much love your object of affections receives, and then consider the last time you washed it...
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