It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
It’s not easy to move in December.
I suppose
the month
doesn’t matter so much.
It’s just not easy to move.
It is not easy to move
from your home of 30-plus years
where you raised your kids
acquired, stored, and forgot about
infinite treasures
filling every inch of space.
No, this kind of move is not easy.
It’s not easy to move
to a new home
several states away
planning
what you want to put on a truck
what you’ll need in the days (weeks?)
in-between
being in one place and next
waiting for your stuff to arrive.
No, it’s not easy.
It is not easy to do this
alone
all by yourself.
Which is why
I went to help.
I just returned
from a very hard and successful week
at my college bestie’s
‘old house’
where we worked non-stop
sorting packing wrapping boxing
taping lifting loading re-doing
squishing counting rushing
tossing donating keeping
In a few more days
she will have a new home
here in Maryland
she will live
not only
closer to me
but to
her daughter
her sister and
other family.
It is a wonderful move -
and not easy!
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
Bird was so excited to see the tree, when she arrived for the day. She tenderly touched the ornaments, naming what she saw, loving the doves, stars, and snowflakes, especially. Bird looked a bit like an old ornament herself, dressed in this shimmering purple ‘Rapunzel’ gown, which has been worn and stumbled on so many times it is ripped at both hem and waistline.
What’s that here, Nana?
The tree?
No, there, Nana.
I tried to follow her pointed finger.
Here? (I still wasn’t sure what she was pointing at, but I figured I’d fake understanding until she gave me a bit more to go on.)
No, closer. (At this point, she takes my hand in hers and brings it to an ornament.)
This, Nana. Who is this?
Oh! That’s Oscar the Grouch.
Oscar the Grouch, Nana? He is a grouch!?
Oh my, do you not know who Oscar the Grouch is? He’s a grumpy, grouchy, cranky guy . . . he lives in a trash can . . . he is always in a bad mood and we love him even so . . . he’s on Sesame Street . . .
Bird’s questions continue - Why do you have him?
I don’t know why I still have him. Hmm. He is special to me?
Why is he in a trash can?
Hmm, I don’t know why he’s in a trash can, really. I guess he loves trash? That’s what he sings anyway. Always been hard for me to accept.
Where did you get him?
I didn’t get him. We made him, a long time ago. See, he’s a pom pom. That’s a film canister for his trash can. Hmm, I guess you don’t know what a film canister is, do you?
How long, Nana? When Daddy was a baby?
No, back before Daddy was a baby.
Actually, this was back before I was married.
Actually, back before I met Poppa.
Back, back, back.
A long, long, long time ago.
Back when I spent holidays at my brother’s, playing with my nieces.
Just like that,
one little fuzzy green head
coupled with a dose of curiosity
and I am
transported back
a craft table in the basement
felt and pom poms and googly eyes
glue and scissors and laughter
making Christmas treasures
with my young nieces
those nieces are now moms
to teenagers
yes, a long, long, long time ago.
Imagine! Trash can Oscar has been on my Christmas tree a long, long, long time. I wonder if that’s why he’s grouchy? He’s tired of just hanging around.
I guess Oscar the Grouch is a pretty old concept. Hmm.
I found Oscar the Grouch on the television, so that the three year old could see this puppet for herself. The video is “I Love Trash” being sung by Oscar and a pop singer named Jack Antonoff - and while Bird laughs and laughs at all the trash flying every which way, I sit in unfamiliar territory. I do not know this singer, I do not recognize any of his bands or their most popular songs; I am feeling my age.
Ornaments are like magical time machines, taking me to unexpected places . . .
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
