We warmed the bench with cold stares,
holding onto yesterday’s glass of champagne.
A boy cried somewhere,
loosening his grip on a balloon
that slipped into a sky that never looks back.
Should I pity a crying child,
or an adult swallowing storms in silence?
“I should go,” she said, and
I found my hand reaching for hers,
like a child clinging to his mother
as she nears the grocery counter too soon,
hoping time would stall,
hoping something small could still be saved.
But some things are no-brainers,
inevitable as gravity,
the balloon has flown,
belonging now to no one,
or maybe to everything but us.
The child stopped crying
when his mother placed a bar of chocolate
into his waiting hands.
And I envied him,
because how does a child receive sweetness after sorrow,
while an adult is handed a weapon
and told to be brave instead of held?
No chocolate, no comfort,
just something sharp enough
to silence the trembling.
I guess that’s why
I stand where I stand,
not as someone to be soothed,
but as someone to be used.
I guess
I really am
His favorite soldier.
As a child,
Like a grown up, you would put on my make-up,
In my heels you'd stumble trying to stand up.
As a child,
Knowingly, you played at 'mothers' with your friends
Each one using grown up language in pretends.
As a child,
Many times you would not do as you were told,
Capricious, stubborn as any eight-year-old.
As a child,
Already knowing that you wanted to be
A loving mother, exactly, just like me.
As a child,
Peas in a pod, we went through it together
Daintily dancing through all kinds of weather.
Time has passed, and even though you're grown up now
Admit, you can't hide sometimes stumbling somehow
like a child.
A garden grub.
Got traumatized.
Rose sludge.
Cinnamon brush.
Or grass slipping.
The garden gnome had a feast later that night.
No one saw where he buried the…leftovers.
Which is why you should believe the garden grub.
When he appears on your home grown kale.
But instead you just…
Washed him down the drain.
Like rose thorn bundles.
Peach flab.
Or other things that make the paint on your eyes chip away a little more.
What’s as good as blowing bubbles?
What’s cleaner than play dough or slime
and cheaper, no cost, small troubles?
Grown-up dandelions are fun;
ask any youngster in spring time.
They’re seeds for delight by the ton.
Neighbor kids may gather around
but who'd consider that a crime?
Grabbing a hose, they play splashdown.
It all makes this great-grandma smile
watching from the porch in her prime.
Lawn-lovers may gripe, “not worthwhile”.
What do you want to be
When you grow up?
Today it’s a doctor,
Yesterday, a chemist,
Last week, a singer.
It doesn’t matter
Because at eight,
You can be anything.
What are you going to be
When you grow up?
Now I say a professor,
Because I want to sound smart,
And really,
It doesn’t matter
Because at twelve,
You can change your mind.
What will your major be
When you grow up?
I hesitate, because I don’t know.
My friends do,
And somehow, I missed the memo.
But now it matters
Because at sixteen,
You should have a plan.
Who are you going to be
Now that you’re grown up?
And it hits me that “grown up”
Was never something I thought I would achieve.
Someday, somewhere, someone
And it’s all that matters
Because at twenty,
Grown up is just a child’s game.
Vain,
Pain,
Lame,
Stained,
Rank,
Crazy,
Grain of Salt in the Recipe,
Perpetually messing with the direction of flavor,
We can savor it NOW or LATER,
Or bade a dew to something new,
If it is to be new,
I hope to meet its Creator.
Serve it as its waiter,
NOT as a side of any old taters...
But show that it is made for an “elevator up...”
Then toast with a cup,
Of “This Schwizer just got nicer and that is definitely what is freaking up!!!”
Excuse me, friend
My mirror has been retracted
I've faced my fears
Where light was refracted
Your sharp words
No longer cut and maul
I've recovered what was lost
In that catastrophic fall
Away from me, fear monger
What have I to do with you
Stirring your concoctions
Making deception seem true
Feet running quickly
Finding trouble and despair
I'm finally at peace
Knowing that life is never fair
What is this voice I hear
Walking from eternity into time
Inviting me to come away from position
Following LOVE until I find
...the child is grown
Written by Trudy Schrader on 06-12-2026
Note: LOVE doesn't demand its own way, no matter the level of maturity.
Alone in the kitchen—
The refrigerator is the loudest sound.
He sits and compares,
A home that was once too theirs.
Their running up and down the stairs;
Like wild mustangs and without cares
The refrigerator is the loudest sound—
He would prefer theirs.
Too bad they're grown and gone;
Realizing how much you depended on,
Having laces to tie, and crying eyes to dry,
Or how quickly life ambles by.
You hardly notice the passing years,
Till their not around—
And you're alone in the kitchen
And the refrigerator is the loudest sound.
For my four children I've been working Almost every day
There was never enough time to play with you
There were baseball games, dance recitals That you wanted me to come to
But with all the time working There was never enough time for any of you
On weekdays and weekends, I had to do my chores So it left very little time for you four
I may always say maybe the next time Which I might have said so many other times
Sometimes I had to work all night And I wouldn't see you to the next morning light
I know our lives are short, and days go by fast
And all your children grow up in a flash
Then I finally realized that my children Are no longer by my side And now I no longer have to provide
I still have pictures I can still look at Showing me the past and the laughter
I'm retired now and once I was so busy Now all my body and hands are still
And for me, these days are too quiet and hard to kill
I wish I could go back into the past And change all the ways I reacted
And for my four grown children I want to say I'm sorry, and I want to say you are all One in a million and I love you all
‘Let the honor and the money of your friend
be as dear to you as your own’*
~ speaks of friendship fully grown
____________________________________________________
*A combination-condensation of two statements
in the Talmud: Pirkey Avos 2: 15 & 17
My friends are like potatoes,
They can be salty or sweet.
They can be too much of everything,
Or nothing all at once.
My friends are like potatoes,
They can go soft if they know you,
Usually their skin isn’t thick,
And they’ll try to get through you.
My friends are like potatoes,
They’ve grown from nothing.
Sometimes I get greedy and keep them to myself,
But I cant finish much in one sitting.
My friends are like potatoes,
You can try them in multiple ways.
But be careful how you sharpen your knife,
Because they too, have a blade.
I come alive with the flush of green.
No escaping.
My lungs breathe sparkles in fields of dreams.
Pure sensation.
Worries exposed get rushed to leaving.
Letting go.
Peace arises no longer speaking.
Let it flow.
With smoke I am weightless, I dance.
Let us fly.
It breaks the go to work for what trance.
Work and die.
It reminds me to simmer, fix crown.
Come home.
With green my mood goes up, never down.
Love grown.
a creep, an asshead, joker, fool
he wants to make another rule
a narcissist who wants his own way
the family leaves, not one will stay
tired of his trickery and pouts
even his parents are now on the outs
no one speaks to the grow- up big baby
his attitude as welcome as rabies
I'm grown, widely woke
I leveled up
Improved my mental balance
The things that breaks me
Now strengthen me
Where they see chaos
I see opportunities
My mind is my weapon.
I'm grown, strong and bold
My future I must take hold of
No reason will let me fold
Dedicated to my goals
Always feeling at home
Even when
I am away from home
Just to get the goals
I dig deep just like coals.
I'm grown, purpose driven
I don't fit in
Steadily doing things
Beyond the society's imagination
I do things with intentions
Not for attention
Moving in the right direction
Because I'm addicted to succeeding.
Peace,Hope, love, acceptance of each others differences, a warm home for the unsheltered kids and moms, Christmas trees brightly dressed in holiday lights..
A full table of wonderful warm holiday foods on every families dining room table, no families standing outside in the bitter winters night. Step food shelf full to the brim with supplies of food, supplies for each family in need.
To watch the news and hear only good cheer, stories on how we are all loving one another, blessings of Hallmark Christmas cheer..
Health care affordable for those in need, employment, a paycheck to buy the necessities, affordable rent, The House Of Hope providing shelter for all deserving single moms, a warm bed in which to lay their head, for years to come..
Nothing I wish for my family, only warm blessings for everyone who seeks warmth love, compassion, for thus is My Grown Up Christmas List..
I could wish you all these and more, but more than anything, I wish you Jesus..
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