Memories of My Parents
Memories of my father
Bring forth the autumn walks.
Shades of nature on the crunchy leaves
At the man-made lake down the hill
From the little white house
With the green picket fence,
Which our large family lived in.
He would sit the six of us on a log
Biggest to smallest
With me holding the littlest,
As he focused his camera for the numerous photos.
Always the nature lover, always outdoors.
A canvas tent fit for a king for his family of eight,
To protect us from the night creatures,
As we drove from provincial park to provincial park,
Enjoying the majestic mountains, glacier lakes,
Historical landmarks, sandy beaches of the Pacific,
Nature’s geysers spraying from the core of the earth,
And the constellations of the night sky without city lights.
Memories of my mother
Bring forth delicious cakes
And home cooked meals,
Stretching cheap cuts of meat
For her large family of eight.
Baking, cooking, cleaning, the old ringer washer
Which caught my brother’s arm as we shrieked and laughed!
Large pot of tea on a Sunday night,
Dividing a package of store bought wafers, two each....
The Christmas Eves of yesterday, a small pile of gifts
For each of her children, a box of mandarins, nougat and marzipan,
And the special spice cookies from the German deli.
The strawberry punch once a year along with homemade advocat,
And roast duck was her choice of bird, tradition from her homeland.
Memories of my parents......
All was not as it seemed.
Always on their best behavior that day in December.
The arguments waking us up at night,
The black eye because of my fire engine red raincoat
Which cost too much when money was so scarce.
My father’s absences when he worked out of town,
My brothers growing up, too much to handle for my mother.
Her one little girl helped out with the babies,
Straight home from school to get dinner cooking
Which my mother had prepared before heading to work.
And so the years went on until we all left home.
I was the only one who never returned except to visit,
My mother always reminded me.
I always felt sad for her life in her adopted land,
Left behind close family and friends.....
She never quite fit in.
Should have married rich, traveled the world,
Had no children, only fancy clothes......she once told me.
So many boyfriends from a time before
All killed in that last world war, took what was left.
Not by choice but by necessity, to escape to a new land
Full of hopes and dreams which didn’t evolve........
Copyright © Ingrid Lehman | Year Posted 2020
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