My daughter awoke before us this morning–not long before. In fact, I had taken out our dog, Mic, quite early as he stays on the work week wake up timing even when I let go of it for the weekend, and I fell back asleep for another hour and a half or so. She told us that she had been awake around a half hour before she called to see if it was OK to come into our room. She was ready for Mother’s Day.
The first order of business was to deliver her gift to her mother–Poetry Party. After delivering it and reading it, she and I made breakfast, and tonight we took her mother and her grandmother out to dinner. For an English teacher and a bit of a poker-faced sap, my favorite part of the day was the poetry delivery. Actually the best part was just a few minutes ago when I read the following poem:
I have been writing a few poems recently, and I have found that I have my own cherished items–images I have somehow preserved over as many as thirty-three years. I must have held them so close that I forgot I still had them…sort of like the eyeglasses that I have looked for only to find them still on my face.
To be someone’s cherished item is a unique and daunting responsibility, but today has been a reminder that it is a joyful one as well–the most joyful one. So after reading my daughter’s poems, I am indeed ready for the “poetry party.”