I’m not sure why the words, Mother Mentors, on the brochure asking for volunteers caught my eye. My daughters were grown. My days of full time mothering were over. But the word “mentors” sidled up next to “mother,” intrigued me. Maybe it was because as a young mother I felt no matter how fast IContinue reading “Mother Mentors: Finding My Do-Over”
Tag Archives: motherhood
I Am Dry
A poem about finding the calm within oneself regardless of the weather swirling around you.
To TV or Not to TV?
I grew up before the internet, video games, cable TV and smart phones had been invented. My childhood electronics included a radio, alarm clock, record player, and television. I learned about the world from news my parents watched or from folded newspapers tossed on our porch in the sleepy hours of the morning. I wouldContinue reading “To TV or Not to TV?”
A snake knows when to leave its skin behind and does so without fanfare or fuss. Oh, to have the freedom of a snake. Free of guilt and fear. Free of the hamster wheel of thoughts cycling through the endless what-ifs, responsibilities and possible regrets. A snake simply slithers from skin that has become rigidContinue reading “Snake”
What Do You See?
As soon as I walk into the gym I feel as if all eyes are on me saying, “You don’t belong here with your chubby belly and flabby frame.” Like Harry Potter, I wish to hide beneath an invisibility cloak so I can go about my workout unnoticed. Since these cloaks only exist in magicalContinue reading “What Do You See?”
Sam had both arms wrapped tightly around his mother as she opened the door on his first day of preschool. He took a quick peek at the classroom before seeking refuge behind her again. Sam knew his mom was going to leave. She’d been telling him for weeks how much fun he would have atContinue reading “Building Bravery”
Tonight my daughter crawled into my lap. I could tell something was bothering her, but I’d learned that prying often led to her withdrawing like a turtle deep into a protective shell where I could not reach her. But tonight when the house was silent and dark she crawled into my lap. She is nineteenContinue reading “My Lap”
These hands with veins like aged snakes and wrinkles gray are getting old But once these hands were small and smooth and held a father’s hand. These hands have blocked the blows of man and faith that tried to confine. But the vastness in these hands cannot be caged. These hands have let go untilContinue reading “These Hands”
My Proper Raincoat
My raincoat makes a swishing sound when sliding it over my arms and onto my shoulders. Each time I put it on some part of me whispers, “Thank you.” I have lived in rainy Washington over thirty years and this is my first proper raincoat. I’ve had second hand, make-do coats faded in color. I’veContinue reading “My Proper Raincoat”