Thoughts and a Poem

The older I get, the more I feel gratitude for the gift of a loving mother and father. Life is difficult at times to maneuver, and I am not saying my parents were perfect, and I have made my fair share of mistakes due to a very hard head and a will like a rock, but I am saying I knew unconditional love, a rare gift, indeed. Because of that, my foundations were firm enough to withstand in spite of my self made earthquakes.  

It wasn't until I became older that I started processing that my  "normal" childhood was not as common or as "normal" as I assumed, and I learned of the pain and difficulty that permeates the lives of adult "children" who grew up without unconditional love. I believe that could be at the root of much of the anger directed at the world and each other today, hence the poem:

Someone Elses Mama

She played her tune on the fiddle

as the children laughed and shouted,

and danced so hard they fell to the floor;

then they cried and whined and pouted.

But they loved their dear, sweet Mama

and they feared their dear, sweet Mama,

as they twirled to the heat of a song not so sweet

while the air left the room with each beat.

She played her tune on the fiddle

as the young kids danced for the crowd;

they slipped and dipped ‘til exhausted

then bent at the waste and bowed.

But they loved their dear, sweet Mama, 

and they feared their dear, sweet Mama,

as they twirled to the heat of a song not so sweet

while the air left the room with each beat.

She played her tune on the fiddle

as the sons and daughters swirled,

but they never met in the middle

and the chords were all awhirl.

But they loved their dear, sweet Mama,

and they feared their dear, sweet Mama,

as they twirled to the heat of a song not so sweet

while the air left the room with each beat.

She played her tune with no fiddle;

the adults in the room looked grim,

but they whirled to the tunes of their childhood

as the mama’s smile waxed dim.

They loved their dear, sweet Mama,

and they feared their dear, sweet Mama,

as they twirled to the heat of a song not so sweet

while the air left the room with each beat.

Not one of my happier by products, but life is not always pretty. However, their is sufficient grace available for us all.

Peace, 

Love, Linda