Tag Archives: grandparenting

Poetry, Writing

Easter Bunny

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(Poem 91 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/YeAShn

English pagans gave us the name of the celebration Easter from their goddess Eostre.
Germans gave us the egg-laying bunny, the cutest addition, in my opinion.
Jews gave us the lamb and the traditions of Passover to intertwine.
Christians gave us The Lamb to make it all about.
The Easter lilies, we took from Japan, sometime after WWI.
An Ottoman Sultan’s sweet tooth may have brought future jellybeans in the form of Turkish delight.
A Russian invented Peeps in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.
New Yorkers started the Easter Parade, strolling down Fifth Avenue in their spring fashions after church.
In Malta, they carry Mary through the streets.
In Ireland, they eat a special breakfast.
In Spain, they celebrate for an entire week.
In Italy, they eat bread shaped like a dove.
In the Vatican, the Pope gives a blessing.
In Australia, Easter Bilbies are all the rage.
In The United Kingdom, you must have hot cross buns.
In my house, it’s a Cadbury Cream Egg.
All over the world, through time and place, may your Easter be blessed by family and good fortune.

@Home Studio – 91st poem of the year

Runner ups for the AI hands photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

The Tree that Holds up the Moon

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(Poem 77 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/a1SThn

The tree that holds up the moon
had to be reinforced last month.
A branch broke and the light of night
nearly came tumbling down to earth.
We wept and prayed, wished we
had thought of something sooner.
Then the women gathered their
tools and began the tedious work
of stitching the bark strong where
the wound remained from the
gaping hole the bough left when
she fell away and broke our hearts.  

@Home Studio – 77th poem of the year

Runner ups for the tree moon photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Grief is Hard

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(Poem 58 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“This is hard,” you say,
and point to her portrait,
no more words required.
Tears begin to flow;
you don’t want to cry
and say so.

I tell you no one knows
what you are feeling.
None of us have had a
best friend for 70 years
and had to feel the pain
of losing her.

Then I escape to my
room to weep into
my husband’s arms,
crying even harder
because she can’t
hold you.

@Home Studio – 58th poem of the year

Health, Poetry, Writing

I Provide

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(Poem 55 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“Who can find a virtuous woman? For her worth is far above rubies.” Proverbs 31:10

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com  https://gencraft.ai/p/ozljx8

I provide an excellent income.
This priceless life has maintenance fees.
My husband dreams of being
a kept man, a trophy husband.

He knows I have his best interests
at heart and will provide if I can.
I find good deals on stylish threads
and am willing to roll up my sleeves.

I do the grocery shopping
with my own money, and cook
for four generations sometimes-
dark to dark are often my hours.

I buy land, cars, investments,
houses, furniture, animals,
goods (essential or frivolous),
and keep the lights on.

I am generous with my earnings,
always willing to share, ready for
winter and summer alike;
my home is a welcome oasis.

Our needs are met, as well as
many of our wants; my children
look to me for strength and
guidance as they make their paths.

My beauty is love, peace, work,
and teaching kindness through
craft – creation of story –
words strung together like pearls.

@Home Studio – 55th poem of the year

Health, Poetry, Writing

I Do Work

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(Poem 52 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com  https://gencraft.ai/p/JAMCjk

I do work that I feel confident doing.
It stretches me and can be a complicated
puzzle that feels unsolvable at times,
but I am fully cognizant of my abilities,
able to slow my pulse, take a deep breath,
and start at the very beginning because
Julie Andrews says that’s a very good
place to start, and she knows things.

Old dogs can learn new tricks, though
they might need some accommodations
to help them master the same skills.
Honestly, whomever thought to suggest
phrases like neutral face and thinking-face
when hovering above emojis not only
blessed those of us who struggle to
read faces, but those of us unaccustomed
to reading little circular yellow faces
as part of our regular workday because
we grew up with rotary phones, and
being able to metaphorically clutch my
pearls by clicking on a gasp emoji
might come in quite handy someday.

My grandmother worked in the tech
sector via telecommunications back
when switchboard operators used
call signs like Capital 5 instead of
area codes and you could call an
actual human to ask for the time of day.

She never imagined she would add
butterfly emojis as her call sign in messages
she would send to her great-great-
granddaughter someday, and I never
imagined I would be helping AI
improve her reasoning skills, but I
come from a long line of women who
know how to adapt, are not afraid of
exploring the unknown, and will learn
what we need to learn to take care of
this next generation of forward thinkers.

@Home Studio – 52nd poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

I Lotioned Your Feet

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(Poem 48 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

My Mema passed away this morning. I had the privilege of spending 50 years in her presence. I will miss her something fierce. She has a husband she was married to for over 70 years, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren, not to mention every other possible connection to people far and wide.

Mema and Grandad

I lotioned your feet, then hands
with white jasmine-scented
Bath & Body Works Miriam gave me
and tucked you in the way you like,
brushed your hair and read you your texts,
then some Bible verses of comfort—
Isaiah 40, the first one that surfaced.

The steady sounds of the ICU create
a strangely soothing white noise as a
backdrop to your labored breaths.
Lydia is here again to hold your hand
just one more time; one of many
one more times over the last few days
because each time could be the last.

The you I know is no longer here,
but the shell remains and deserves
gentle petting and reassurance.
Goodness knows how many times
you had to ‘there, there’ me in the last
50 years, buoying my spirits and righting
my sails with your steady faith and calm.

Boaz sat vigil until I arrived, and your
children and husband will take over after
I leave — we are all branches of a grand
candelabra you have lit with exuberance,
spreading across states and time, thankful to
have been influenced by the life you lived
and the love which from your cup overflowed.

@ICU Room 1 St. David’s Round Rock Hospital & Home Studio – 48th poem of the year

Health, Writing

The Wand Chooses the Wizard

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I have always wondered why Hermione was placed in Gryffindor. She is clearly a Ravenclaw. Then I started thinking about the fact that I am Ravenclaw despite wishing to be Hufflepuff. The sorting hat must have known she needed Harry and Ron more than other smarty-pants people surrounding her. There are the people we are, the people we want to be, and the people we can become given the right influences and circumstances.

I let this blogsite get cancelled a while back because I did not have available funds to pay for it. Thankfully, when I was able to return, my information and domain name were still available. I was not so lucky with my other publishing website. I have to start over from scratch on that one.

But I feel okay about it all. A fresh start might give me a fresh perspective and kick me into gear with my self-publishing journey once again. It is NanoWrimo time and I have a great novel idea. I have moved to a a multi-generational home and quit teaching. I am focusing on my health and now have more time and energy to devote to my passions.

Would I have expected to be here if anyone had asked me a decade ago? Absolutely not. I could not have planned to be sorted into the family or house I am currently enjoying. Nor could I have foreseen the two ladies with whom I would be sitting here watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I found them through a chain of events I did not orchestrate.

Perhaps things come to us when and if the time is right if we are open to their arrival. We have to put in the footwork and be willing to accept the call, but maybe forces beyond our control are working on our behalf. I know it sounds a little woo-woo, especially when things are not going smoothly in life. And I may not feel this way when the next storm hits. However, it feels nice to think my wand has chosen me, that great things are in store, and just the right friends and family are by my side to battle the darkness.

Health, Writing

Celebrations!

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Photo by Zoran Nikolic from FreeImages

I am happy to announce that great progress has been made in the last year. I have earned my Master’s Degree in English and Creative Writing, my grandchildren have been reunited with their parents, I finally had hip surgery, and I made it through the year teaching despite COVID. It has been a wild ride, but things are looking up. I see the glimmers of feeling better and stronger on the horizon. I am certainly more confident about my passion for writing and my commitment to making a career for myself in the literary field. 

Here’s to constant improvement, even if it looks like barely any progress is being made. It is okay to tiptoe out of comfort zones, take teeny tiny baby steps toward goals, and spend tons of time researching options before picking the next right thing. This journey is not a race.

Health, Writing

Home for Health

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(Illustration: Sarah Grillo/Axiosa)

My grandchildren and I have settled into a nice routine over the last few weeks.  We get up early to eat and play, do homeschool and play some more.  The weather has been either rainy or cool for the most part, so outside time can occur whenever they like.  They play on the porch when it rains.  The only weather we cannot tolerate is hot.  Living in Texas ensures that the outdoors are inaccessible at least 3 months out of the year.

I have begun my master’s degree in Creative Writing and am enjoying the topics of discussion thus far.  We are studying the way new words get added to our vocabulary.  Some I think are of note are Rona for Coronavirus, skurt for go, and beat for applying makeup.  I find the evolution of language fascinating.  I am always interested in how words come about and why certain ones stick. I’m sure these are familiar to some, but I had never heard them until this year.

Teaching my actual students from home has gone great so far.  I have only been asked to send little amounts of work on paper up until now.  Beginning next week, I will teach some Zoom lessons…at least we are going to experiment with it!  We shall see how it goes.

Another exciting leap I took was joining an online meditation/writing group.  I love it!  After meditating and relaxing, my writing flows so much better and I am getting back to my craft.  I recommend writing and sharing with others once in a while.  It is very motivating!

Health, Writing

Waking up from discouragement…

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My last post was in October.  I reported that I had not written since authority figures in my life slammed me with judgment, censorship, and criticism…not only of my writing, but my discernment as a human being and professional.

Now my job is in jeopardy–not connected to my writing, politics above my station.  I am working from home due to the coronavirus and quarantine and all that bizarreness that is occurring in this world right now.

I have also taken in grandchildren temporarily while adult children fix their worlds.  I’ve had a winter of sickness and slow recovery.  I’ve battled a time of sadness.  And I’ve applied to begin working on my master’s degree.  Big things are happening.

And all I want to do is write…and read…and write some more.  Enough pouting, sulking, brooding, etc.  It is time to get back to finding my joy.  I cannot be derailed by others whose opinions I don’t even value anyway.  It has certainly not been a conscious decision to take a sabbatical from writing, but that is what has occurred.  And it has not been good for me.

Here and now, I resolve to get back to writing.  I declare this time of non-writing ended.   Rebekah the writer is back.