Monday, August 29, 2011

The Length of Time


When I hold a new crayon from a fresh box of colors, 

it doesn’t matter

what color I choose,

for I will fill the page with all the colors.

When I draw the first line, squiggle or circle,

I am six years old again.

When I buckle a new shoe across my granddaughter’s foot,

I am five years old, trying on my first pair of patent leather shoes.

I will dance around in them,

watching how the light shines

on the shoes and the buckles.

When I sit on the floor to watch “Peter Pan”,

I am again seven years old,

and I am hoping

that Peter Pan

will appear at my window someday.

When I hear my husband’s laughter

I am a newly-wed and deeply in love.

When I see the photos of my children dressed in brand-new

Easter clothes,

I am again a young mother, thinking about the roast in the oven and Sunday afternoon.

Our lifelines are ruled by the clock and the rotations of the Earth,

But our lives are lived by “…the length, the breadth, and the depth…” of our

memories 

and
imaginations.

10 comments:

  1. 100% correct. As long as you can remember, you are there in that moment and place as often as you please. And, you only have to keep the good parts. The bad stuff you can dump.

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  2. So true. This makes me realize how much I need to treasure every moment.

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  3. Memories are such great treasures!!!

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  4. "Turning Points" and periods that define us as individuals come at different stages in our lives. I love your post, and you have described life's various stages wonderfully. Beautiful writing, Susan.

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  5. Thank you, Susan, for reminding us that we have a whole life-time of memories that embrace us. As your first commenter says, we can "dump" the bad stuff and delight in those memories you shared today. Hopefully we all have such memories that comfort us and help us realize that life has been good and is and will be again.

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  6. Not much more I can say except that I love this.

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  7. Peter Pan has yet to appear. :(
    That was lovely.

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  8. Thank you, Susan, for commenting on my Tuesday posting. I, too, can see Mom shimmying in that apartment kitchen. How she loved to sing. It is a favorite memory of mine.

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  9. This was just beautiful! Well written and emotional. I loved it.

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Go ahead...it won' t hurt...I'd love to hear what you think!