Mother Bea sits in her wooden rocking chair on the rickety varandah. She is placed there every morning. She does not walk. She must be over 80 years old. Even her kids were old. When you are little, everybody is old! I watch her as she watches the daily interactions of the children in the yard. She would make one word prouncements on the goings-on.
Cry baby. Smart. Determined. Thick skull. I often wondered how she arrived at these critiques from such a distance. And more often, just who she was talking about!
at times it’s futile
figuring out which spirit
whisper the loudest
in their attempts to guide me –
probably pointless, thick skull!
For Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday
Where the prompt is synonyms for :
Ghost & Hollow
The things we do on our own as kids, is at times amazing. And sometimes, if we’re lucky, it stays with us.
I don’t even remember how old I was. But I remember the lesson in school had been about caterpillars turning to butterflies. There had always been caterpillars on the bush behind our house. So, I set out to observe this up close. I caught a caterpillar off a leaf. I started by putting it in a cardboard box. But I couldn’t see anything because he kept hiding under the leaves I’d put in with him. Then, I moved it to a jar with holes in the lid that I’d put in with a nail. Afterall, a caterpillar had to breathe.
I was the first one up at twilight to see what was going on in that jar. I watched it change from a caterpillar, to a chrysalis, to a butterfly.
Then It was time to set it free. Watching that butterfly fly away made me feel like a proud parent. The odd thing was, I felt no sadness seeing it go. Just a sense of wonder every time. What it must feel like to have wings to fly…