Like the Early Morning Mists
Like the early morning mists
That rise from the waters’ depths
Memories emerge in swirls and twists
Foggy shadows of lives past
Of them all, childhood scenes outlast
‘Membrances of dear, familiar faces and
Fragmented moments of particular places
Emotions retrieved from those distant spaces.
Of my family, I do recall
My mom and dad most of all
For by the time I came along,
My only sibling had grown and gone.
My brother knew our parents when they were in their prime, and then I came, much later in the span of time.
My arrival changed the course of their
Tamed and settled ways,
Eroded away the edges of predictability,
Stirred up the easy flow of their days,
and I’m told,
Challenged everyone’s sensibility.
The truth is likely not so dramatic
Although, we all could be a bit theatric.
My father and uncles sat for hours at our house
Argued and joked, cussed and smoked
Lamented the damnable things politicians do.
Then over cribbage and coffee, they’d list
All the best ways of snagging a fish.
From captured bits of conversation
I suspect, as were others of his generation,
Dad was a “roustabout” in his youthful days
In my recollection, though, he was our defender and a regular “Jack of all Trades.”
With the men around, my
Momma stayed in the background-
Busy always with domestic chores
Cooking, cleaning, laundry and more
Injecting a flair for the lovely into her everyday life,
Seemingly content in her role as housewife.
Doing for others brought her great joy
The fruits of her labor did others enjoy
Surrounded by close friends, My momma did shine
Social activities filled her free time:
Fancy luncheons, music shows, quilting bees, Bible studies and bowling leagues.
Memories can be such hazy things.
Images of loved ones blur with time;
yet, with clarity, through the vapor, I still see
My parents’ hands, worn frail and thin,
Their journey’s trials traced upon their skin
In their touch, though strong from life’s hard labors,
They softly held my babies safely in their arms, and
I knew that love was foremost in their nature.
Like the early morning mists
That rise from the waters’ depths
Memories emerge in swirls and twists
Enveloping me in love and devotion.
Copyright © Michelle Waters | Year Posted 2021
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