To be raw and real in the retelling of your own most vulnerable moments creates a profound intimacy in memoir. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to write one. Mira Ptacin explores her own fears and feelings of shame and grief around the death of her brother as a teenager and the loss of her baby in her 20s. She weaves a beautiful tribute to her mother who emigrated from Poland and built a life with perseverance and grit here in America. Americans did not make it easy on her.
The subtle twists and turns of growing up, beginning to relate to your parents as fellow adults, discovering that your childhood perceptions of them may have been misconstrued, and finding internal peace in the process are themes that resonate with me, as I have experienced this with my own parents, and now have adult children going through this phase of life with me. Though I have never had to experience the same kinds of grief as Mira, her example of leaning on her loved ones, finding her own path forward, and being gentle with the healing process (however long it takes), makes me hope I can do so with the same indomitable spirt as her, if I am ever tasked with such a burden.
I probably would never have chosen this book, had I known how much of the story centered around the awful experience of having to make decisions related to ending a pregnancy, so I am glad I was unaware because I would have missed out on so many threads of beauty and love. And every scene that includes her husband is superb. He tends to steal the scene, as he is depicted as sincere, silly, and supportive in all the right ways.
Rebekah Marshall @Home Studio
Ptacin, Mira, poor your soul, SOHO Press, Inc., 2016.
Tag Archives: relationships
Ham Sandwich
(Poem 356 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
When given his druthers,
more often than not,
Grandad chooses a ham
sandwich for lunch.
What about roasted chicken,
beef stew, spaghetti, or pizza?
No, just a ham sandwich
sounds good today.
Honey wheat sliced bread,
no need for toasting,
Kraft, the only mayonnaise,
and ham, no cheese.
Would you like some chips
or a salad on the side?
No, just a ham sandwich
sounds good today.
What about to drink—
iced tea, root beer?
Coke, water, juice, or milk?
His drink choice holds variety.
But if I try to fancy things up,
offer garnish or fruit slices?
No, just a ham sandwich
sounds good today.
@Home Studio – 356th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Ham Sandwich photos to accompany my poem:
AI couldn’t figure out how to assemble the sandwich.
AI was not exactly sure what to do with the mayo. Coca Cola Mayo!!!lol
These actually look really tasty, but Grandad would never eat cucumbers or ask for anything green on his sandwiches.
Married at First Sight
(Poem 353 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
What kind of courage must it take
to agree to marry a complete stranger?
To put your fate in the hands of professional
matchmakers who will find you a mate?
What kind of failures in relationships
and heartbreak must you have experienced
to decide your picker is irrevocably broken,
so you’re better off letting someone else decide?
What kind of hope must bubble up
as you dress for your wedding day,
eager to meet the man or woman
you might spend all your days with?
What kind of crash course in communication
could possibly prepare two people
who’ve only just met to dive into
a honeymoon and sleep in the same bed?
What kind of crazy, wild optimism
drives two people to move in together,
combine households, be vulnerable,
and believe in falling in love with a stranger?
@Home Studio – 353rd poem of the year (Based on the show Married at Frist Sight, Nashville, Season 16.)
Married at First Sight, Nashville, Season 16, Chris Coelen, Eric Detwiler, Montre Burton, Kinetic Content, FYI, Lifetime, 2023.
Runner ups for the Married at First Sight photos to accompany my poem:
Car Jenga
(Poem 341 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Gifts and necessities
fill every inch of the car
blending possessions
one step in the process
that is part and parcel of
two lives becoming one
from Texas to Canada
Michigan in between
mother’s heart rests easy
when she sees her boy
turned man open the car
door for his wife
and drive away
to start his new life
@Home Studio – 341st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Car Jenga photos to accompany my poem:
The Outlaw
(Poem 314 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
He’s a quick draw and hard
on cold-blooded cowards
He’s no bushwhacker or hustler
no sidewinder who rattlesnakes
unsuspecting innocents
No, he is simply on the lam
for getting the drop
on a corrupt politician with power
and refusing to back down
Quick to cowboy up and get gaited
Gives any ace-high man a fair shake
Sweet on one lady and made
an honest woman out of her
Admired for telling good yarns
and shooting straight
Never one to raise Cain or drink red eye
to associate with bad eggs
or spend time in brothels or saloons
Salt of the earth and above board
Who cuts a fine figure
as he rides off into the sunset
@Home Studio – 314th poem of the year
I miss you when…
(Poem 313 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Washing my hands in your sink
Sitting in your chair
Writing on your notepad
Answering your phone
Cooking breakfast for Grandad exactly the way you showed me how
Peeling a tangerine
Putting away your dinner plates that stack so easily from the dishwasher
Making a cup of tea
Reminding Grandad to use his cane
Hearing certain doors open in the house
Something cute happens with the kids
I’m sad
I have a big decision to make
I have a success I want to celebrate
I get stressful news
@Home Studio – 313th poem of the year
Día de los Muertos
(Poem 307 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Death is a part of life.
Altars of favorite foods
photos of the deceased
marigolds, candles, incense
family picnics at the graves
opportunities to connect
to ancestors and remember
their part in our story
and that they are still with us
and alive in our hearts.
@Home Studio on 11/2/24 @ 10:20pm – 307th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Día de los Muertos photos to accompany my poem:
Taking Pictures of Flowers
(Poem 279 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
She fell in love near dusk
walking a gravel path that crunched
beneath their feet as they wandered
in search of flowers to photograph.
She had been gifted a new old camera
that made her feel nostalgic for a past
life, and he was looking for any excuse
to be alone with her to confess his feelings.
She bent to frame a delicate Magnolia
and his breath caught at her beauty.
He told her his heart would only continue
to beat if she accepted his love as her own.
She turned to him with a serious expression
and snapped a photo of his pained look.
“I accept,” she said, then took another
photo of his transformed elated visage.
She has both faces framed on her desk
and looks at them when she grows weary
of darkness and difficulties, to remember
that she was once someone’s next heartbeat.
@Home Studio – 279th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Camera photos to accompany my poem:
Anniversary
(Poem 275 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
9 years ago,
I promised to
continue writing
a love story
with you
for the span
of the rest
of our lives.
I walked
down a grass aisle
to a tree canopy
and exchanged vows
in the presence
of our people
while the sun
set.
It was a Thursday,
and white
lights were strung
in the tree
so we
could celebrate
falling in love
after dark.
@Home Studio – 275th poem of the year
The Pick-up Line
(Poem 274 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Inbound air vehicles
are pulling into the plane
parking lot, unloading people
like children off a school bus
and I’m sitting in the pick-up line,
waiting to scoop
you and your backpack
into the car and whisk
you home where you belong
after a long field trip.
@Home Studio – 274th poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 