Moving Day

Last weekend is best summarized as: Furniture. Saturday morning to Dave's to pick up Jake and furniture, including the Pink Sofa Sleeper, which we bought for the house we re-built in San Marcos in the early 80's. I already had furniture in the trailer from my house... a gray comfy chair for Jake, brown chaise and a desk for Sara. We added the Pink Couch, a few bookshelves, boxes of dishes and stuff.

Then, Jake and I headed up to Portland to offload Sara's things (and toss one of the bookshelves, which disintegrated on the ride up). Then to Tacoma to finish packing Jake's room, vacuum, dust, etc. Then finally to Seattle. We got to his new place around 9:30, spent an hour unloading the furniture from the trailer, discovered that the Pink Couch wouldn't fit down the narrow stairs (back in the trailer) and that the 7 foot book case was about 4 inches too tall for the apartment.

Sunday, we finished unloading the boxes, bought some book cases and a coffee table from Valu Village and a sofa from Goodwill, cleaning supplies and food from Fred Meyers. Had a great lunch at an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet. And then I left the boy to settle in.

Back to Portland (the 7 foot book case fits in Sara's apartment), spent the night and left Monday (one more stop: deliver the Pink Couch to her friend's house in Tualatin).

One more trip this weekend to Portland with some more furniture for the girl, meet the roommate's family, and home for work Monday.

Moving Day

“Thanks for the help moving, ma,”

a young man once said to me.

Past and present and future –––

love’s prism merged the three.

A two-year-old’s philosophy

about birth and choice and love

“How long would it have been, ma,

‘til we found each other’s love?”

First day of school, not yet five,

I let go of his eager hand

And stopped a block away;

“Let me go, ma, like we planned.”

The years merged in a blur

of inner growth and outward growing

a solo air trip, boyscout, martial art

high school, college, my pride showing.

“Reminds me of a Calvin and Hobbes,”

or the Talmud or a hitch hiker’s guide ~

philosophies from deeper sources.

The road less traveled, tried.

Not yet 21, journeys to other lands,

the young man ventured alone.

Studying others and fitting in…

Content by himself and on his own.

The big brother, protective,

guarding near and watching over

the little girl, a glowing light

with moths circling around her.

New life, new home, unpacked,

furniture and hopes, books and dreams.

Room to fill with memories

as he spreads his wings.

The details of his future

are now hidden from my eyes

But the timbre of his soul

rings clearly, without disguise.

“Thanks for the help moving, ma,"

a young man once said to me.

Past and present and future ---

love’s warmth envelopes me.

Off to explore the world

Jake graduated Sunday from the University of Puget Sound, with a Bachelor of Arts in Theater Arts. 

What's he going to do now? Whatever he wants to . . .

Not a baby, anymore

The babygirl turned 18 yesterday. And she was kind enough to let me spend time with her last night. sigh. Sara's poem...
 

Sara

My daughter, my friend
you are named for royalty and a bewitched jewel.

Hope

Your middle is a prayer
and a statement

a family tradition.

And like the gem that shares your name,
you are shining and bright,

brilliant and priceless.

Like the diamond,
you gather light from around you,
focus it and beam it out

                    into the darkest corner of a room and

             into the deepest reaches of my soul.

Mom

Just enough

A friend recently sent some "Glass is ...." one liners; you know, the optimist says, "The glass is half full." The pessimist sees it as half empty, the rationalist says, "The glass is twice as big as it needs to be."

In response to the many miracles chronicled in the Exodus story and celebrated in Passover, Jews the world over just finished singing praises of "Dayenu" (meaning: that would have been enough, or the glass is just right).

I know I've been guilty of filling my glass over-full for years at a time, and became skilled in mopping up as I continued to pour. In recent years, I've been learning the value of a life lived with space built in -- a half full glass allows air and quiet and reflection. And more time with people I love.

Just Enough

I am a glass, my soul made of water drops

added one by one;


each contributes its own flavor


and the pouring never stops.

Brother and sister at my side,

drops added as I ran wild.

Another added with each move –

and each new mask, carefully applied.

One drop was added to my cup

when he asked if I would marry him.

Others fell in a steady stream

school and jobs and keeping up.

A drop added as we made a home,

pieced together, bit by bit…

and then we left for greener grass

and coconuts and time alone.

A baby boy, many drops more.

Drops added on rainy days

and more yet, a baby girl ---

dripping-dropping on sunny shores.

Filling spaces in my heart,

drops fell as children grew.

More drops added

as he and I pulled apart.

A year of sad and bitter drops –

though unwanted, each just right,

adding to the flavor of my life,

and the filling never stops.

Grief and anger and salted tears,

the mixture rich and smooth.

Each drop creates a potion

and I overcame my fears.

Heart opens and soul sings…

sitting still, slowing down

worry becomes intrigue

drops glisten as day begins.

Good friends gather near

embracing affirming loving me

A rain shower fills my cup

as rainbows appear.

Each drop life can send,

Each day the glass grows,

Each drop that flows, I know:

Each drop is worth it in the end.

Kim

May 4, 2009