what i wouldn't give...

lessons on a rainy monday

i have no control...

as soon as these words come out of mouth, i loathe them.

having no control is much like feeling useless.

having no purpose. or so i thought.

i met her on the corner of 13th and hamilton.

i was irritated. exhausted. emotional.

i had slept for a half hour the evening before.

i watched my alarm go off at 6:15 am.

i waited all night for it to ring.

i had zero desire to speak to anyone.

and, yet, there she was.

she spoke.

i listened.

today is her first day.

she is from a small town.

and wouldn't it be lovely if the rain would stop?

and, suddenly, i understood why she was there.

on the corner of 13th and hamilton.

i moved closer and held my umbrella over the both of us.

i listened to the rain hit the top in a scattered nonsense pattern

and i felt like i had a purpose.

if only for a couple of blocks.

for my daughter

i was asked to write a peice for letters for our daughters.

and so i did.

if i am fortunate,

i will be gifted with your heartbeat fluttering inside my womb.

and if you are anything like your mama,

you will be a joyous jelly bean,

bouncing all around my belly.

each time you move, i will sense it.

and i will smile, thinking about what you will become....

your eyes will sparkle and tell a story all on their own.

let them.

you should be forever grateful to your body,

it is your fortress.

it will swell and dwindle with the seasons

and

as your dainty fingers trace your ribs

and swoop down the canyon of your waist

only to rise again at your plump hips,

i hope you smile.

know your food.

grow it. know what vegetables love sunlight and know those that do not.

never see food as an enemy

or a calorie,

or as something with the potential to harm you.

relish in vegetables.

find awe in the roundness of eggs

and the crunch of apples.

never miss the opportunity

to dig your toes deep into the ground.

always be thankful for mother earth.

let your emotions be raw. let them be real.

speak.

and know that sometimes it is best we speak without thought.

recognize choice.

not just your own.

but the choice of others.

be fair and be stern.

never limit the definition of love.

you will have an infinite amount of people who love you.

all for different reasons,

and for one reason in particular:

because you are you.

embrace it.

unexplained silence

i have been...

reading this

thinking about soulfood

drinking lavender soda

eating greens. a lot of them.

dreaming about tuscany and letting go

eating goat cheese with just about everything

and, most importantly, not feeling guilty about any of the above

dear me (then)

you will fall in love with a boy
he will not love you back
and this will make you fall out of love with yourself.
hold on tight.
it will be worse, much worse, than one day..
better.

and when he approaches you at that party
and compliments your "blouse"
yes, he will use the word blouse
and you will find it charming,
do not shy away.
admit to being flattered and be equally charming back.
it will stun him.

and later, when he asks if he missed his chance
say yes.

you will never regret it.

there will be several random opportunities that arise,
take them all.

remember to step back,
absorb,
and recognize the beauty of it all.

there will be times you will be scared,
do it anyway.

never underestimate your strength.

a sun salutation will help.

when your body craves it,
give in.

forgive yourself.

there is no such thing as failure.
learn, breathe and keep on going.

when you come across that red vintage skirt,
buy it and don't look back.

memories of the matriarch

i call her the matriarch

because for years after grandpa had left this world,

she was our matriarch.

she would approve,

love unconditionally,

talk politics,

always listen,

cry,

laugh,

hug,

give advice,

and if there was ever something you were endeavouring,

she must have known about it.

and she would have given her blessing, ten times over.

she taught us so much

about family

patience

love

card games

bird calls

nature

i owe her

more than i could ever repay.

i am me

because of her

and the other women (and men) of my family.

and as i continue to struggle

to find a way to commemorate her...

i search poems.

most, completely unrelated.

but i feel connected to something when i read them.

so i keep reading.

first

second: