Penny for your thoughts

Simple things. Just a simple little wheat penny makes me think of my grandma.  It makes me think of a childhood flying kites in the park, eating oatmeal and watching Scooby Doo.  I keep it on my bedside, intending to send it to my grandma (she collects them), but I find that every time I see it, I am that little girl with pigtails.  Happy memories keeping me young.

~ You can see the explanation behind this project by going here or see the all posts in this category by going here. ~

It's Birthday Time

February is an Awesome month! My grandmother’s birthday was February 7th and mine is today. I missed being born on her birthday by a mere two hours. We still always celebrated together, until I moved so dang far away.  She and I did both eat at Applebees for our birthdays this year, just 750 miles apart.  I also became a grandmother for the first time in February and Tristan will be two on the 24th, can you believe it?!

So, back to my grandma. I spent a lot of time with her when I was little. And one of the many things she taught me over the years was how to crochet. Now I don’t really do it much. I’d be surprised if I pick up a hook more than once every three years, but a few years ago I decided to make an afghan and that inspired me to think of myself, momentarily, as a poet. I don’t think I’ve ever shared the poem I wrote with her, in fact it was tucked away completely forgotten about until recently.

Grandma's Little Girl

I'm lost in the motions
Over, through, under, through
Over and over, again and again
Repeating the motions until when
I'm able to tie off and hide the end.

I'm lost in the thoughts
Of a time long ago
When I sat on your lap
And you patiently showed
This little girl the secret code.

I'm lost in the feelings
In and out, around and down
Of the yarn in my hands
Wrapping the hook with strands
While the afghan expands.

I'm lost in the sounds
Of that time long ago
When I listened and obeyed
While you expertly crocheted
And I was amazed at the chain I had made.

The past and present collide
While my hands now expertly
Go through the movements
Grandma's here in transience . . .
Oh, to be little again, just once.

So ok, I write poems about as often as I crochet. lol

Last fall I actually got meet, IRL meet, another blogger who shares my birthday, although she’s much younger. ;0) Happy Birthday Alisha!

PS - Mojo wrote a birthday post for me that made me feel all warm and fuzzy!  Seems like a lot of birthdaying (here I thought I just made that word up, but spellchecker seems to like it)  going on over there!