Little girl, hair a’flying
Barely 9 and a half
Drives like a maniac
On her old Schwinn bike
Singing Taylor Swift
At the top of her lungs.
Pretty girl, smart to boot
18 and a half
Home for a weekend
With a new boyfriend
How long will this one last?
Beautiful woman, baby in tow
27 and a half
Thanksgiving with her family
Gathered round the kitchen stove
Remembers the bike
Married the beau.
Autumn’s middle child
Always dares to remind
That little girls grow into women
In just a few Novembers’ time.
Studly and I took a short ride on our motorcycles this afternoon. I got a little cold and came home ahead of him. Here’s to Florida and year ’round riding.
Rhymes with Autumn
Did you get those shoes? Got ’em!
What will you do with those plants? Pot ’em!
How do you tie your laces? Knot ’em!
How’d you get those books? Bought ’em!
Where’d you get those fish? Caught ’em!
How’d they win the war? Fought ’em!
How’d those kids learn that? Taught ’em!
I know there are more
Ways to rhyme Autumn
Unfortunately I seem
To have reached
The road from point A to point B is 30
semi-straight, lackluster interstate miles.
I drive it most days on my way to work,
But I always look for shortcuts.
There is a road just west of Point A
That leads to a road intersecting Point B
And when I have a bit of extra time
I scoot on over and follow its curves.
Never mind that this route
While two miles shorter
Adds 20 minutes to my drive.
A shortcut in name only,
But well worth the time.
Our lives have not always been easy. We struggled financially for many years. We failed each other many times, but we always got up and made things right. There were many times when it would have been easy to give up, to quit, but we refused. We were never satisfied with failure or with doing things half-assed.
So today I’m thankful for a certain willful stubbornness. A refusal to accept the status quo. Studly and I are living proof that if you work hard and treat others as you wish to be treated that there’s a good chance you’ll do okay in this world. No, we aren’t wealthy. But we are comfortable. We won’t have a fortune to leave our kids. But we have a whole lot of love to leave them. And stubbornness.
Here’s hoping that this Thanksgiving Day allows each of my readers to take a moment to think on all the really good things in their lives. I’m thankful for each of you.
The market on love
Has been cornered
By those of us
Who know that
Sometimes the clouds threaten
And the sky goes sunless
Day upon day
And all that holds the storm at bay
Are the winds swept aloft
By shared laughter.
So what if we can’t live
On love alone?
Honestly we never even tried.
Some days we might have
Forgotten to remember, though
The importance of just looking
Into a smile and seeing
The world we’ve created
From no more than a pair
Of long ago I do’s.
Happy birthday Studly!
Married folks tend to learn each other’s tics and tendencies over time. I’ve made note of some of the things that we just do because we’ve been yoked together for so long. Some of it isn’t all that pretty, but some of it is just right. I guess you’ll have to decide which is which.
Crack each other up with just the right facial expression.
Fart and/or belch freely, then apologize sincerely before farting and/or belching again.
Steal each other’s portion of the blanket.
Hold hands unselfconsciously.
Find each other’s lips on the first try in the darkest of rooms.
Know exactly where to scratch when their partner has an itch.
Finish each other’s sentences. Sometimes correctly.
Elaborate on one another’s stories.
Watch a program they don’t want to watch because their partner wants to watch it.
Understand the “look” and adjust as needed.
Commiserate with one another’s angst, even if it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you.
Be the bright spot when the other’s is dim.
Anticipate the other’s needs, such as bringing home a new bottle of wine without being asked.
Refrain from making a joke at the other’s expense.
Gladly be the butt of a joke when necessary.
I like best the things that are
Left for others to find by chance
Like half a walnut shell
Discarded by a scavenging squirrel
Or a crimson leaf
Dropped by the maple out back
A shell abandoned by the sea
Or a splash of snow sparkling on
New blades of grass
Days after a spring melt.
These left things
Make me wonder
Who? When? Why?
And keep me searching