Sharron, I cannot, I cannot ever not find time to read your posts. They are like those high energy survival rations for daily life. I’ll call them Sharron’s Cliff bars.
But today’s little poem caused an extra special memory to pop up. When my daughter was born late in a Zimbabwe April, just as the weather was turning cold, I volunteered to bathe her in the stainless steel kitchen sink. I was very careful to get the temperature just right and then plopped her in, but apparently the sink itself was still cold and when her little bottom landed on it, Oh! how she howled!!!
I remember those little things. Thanks for the tenderness of this poem. I remember my aunt teaching me to shave my legs. Of all the crazy things she and I did together, that's what sticks in my memory 55 years later. She's gone now but smiling to see I remember.
Ι wish I had similar memories... even when very little I'd take "baths" without any assitance.
That's the way its supposed to be.
I love your use of the word 'stranded'. Such an interesting choice. Bereft? Alone? But at least with loving memories.
Seems blessed rather than stranded.
Heartwrenchingly lovely!!!
Oh, my heart!! So many feelings in so little words. ❣️
Aww..... so special, what grace!
Sharron, I cannot, I cannot ever not find time to read your posts. They are like those high energy survival rations for daily life. I’ll call them Sharron’s Cliff bars.
But today’s little poem caused an extra special memory to pop up. When my daughter was born late in a Zimbabwe April, just as the weather was turning cold, I volunteered to bathe her in the stainless steel kitchen sink. I was very careful to get the temperature just right and then plopped her in, but apparently the sink itself was still cold and when her little bottom landed on it, Oh! how she howled!!!
And that right there is longer than your poem.
Goosepimpling. Sending love, Sharron. 😘
That's a memory to hold on to. A mother's love makes up for a lot of the bad stuff.
😢
Sad 😔
Sweet, Sharron. What is worth remembering more than love?
Awwww...another trip (for me) down memory lane... Thank you, Sharron.
I remember those little things. Thanks for the tenderness of this poem. I remember my aunt teaching me to shave my legs. Of all the crazy things she and I did together, that's what sticks in my memory 55 years later. She's gone now but smiling to see I remember.