A WELL TRAVELED HEART

Tag: growing up

  • CHORES

    CHORES

    When the Winken Blinken days were gone,
    defiance became my middle name.
    Dad and I met only over floor tile and paint –
    chores well done.

    We’d visit the lumber yard, select
    pine to fashion Adirondack chairs
    to grace the deck, unaffected
    by wind and rain.

    Rising early, the bay quiet, we’d share coffee
    from a pot that sat – stacked silver orbs –
    on the counter – and discuss our day’s
    plans, make notes.

    I’m an ecstatic sander – a lover of latex.
    All my life – one gallon at a time
    I paint my way back
    to my father’s heart.

  • SPELLING LESSONS

    SPELLING LESSONS

    Father would quiz me at the dinner table
    on my academic failings.
    “What’s the capital of Wisconsin?” he’d inquire as I mixed peas into my mashed potatoes.
    “Where’s Patagonia?” he’d demand as I twirled spaghetti onto my fork.
    “Spell squirrel.” he’d order as I lifted a forkful of pot roast to my lips.
    My mind would freeze – my brain become empty as a clear frozen lake
    and the scared rabbit of my heart would skitter across the ice seeking shelter.
    Finally I ‘d pull from somewhere
    “S-Q-U-I-R-R-E-L”
    and the meal would resume its course.
    To this day, I prefer to eat alone and
    direct questions hit me like the Artic Express,
    blasting away all thought.
    People think I’m arrogant or not-too-bright.
    They can’t see that small rabbit
    skating frantically for the far shore.