Making lasagna reminds me of you.
Layers of pasta, cheese, sauce, memories
of filling my husband’s lunchbox with slices,
the biggest piece always promised to you.
You never told my grandmother, just hid the sandwich,
banana, chips in your desk for another day.
I reveled in our little secret and your thanks.
Now I arrange each layer and remember
and am thankful that goodbyes aren’t really the end.
Stranded on the beach,
the jellyfish bakes in the sun,
washed up at high tide
with no way to return.
As a side note, the most unusual thing about this jellyfish (and the dozen others that washed up along with it) is that there were no tentacles. I came to the conclusion after looking at it from a safe distance and then poking it with a shell.
The conclusion was confirmed, though, when a little girl (who clearly had no jellyfish experience) grabbed it with her bare hands like it was a shell and carried it over to her parents. They were too far away for me to see if she kept it in her bucket or not, but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised either way.
One week later, the playhouse still sits on the side of the road, forlorn and forgotten.
Cars rush by, too busy to see its sorrow as it awaits its fate. Will it sit on the side of the road forever, until the plastic turns brittle and crumbles under the oppressive summer sun? Will someone eventually take it home, try to put the pieces back together, show it the love it hoped for in the first place? Will it find its way into the nearby woods, destined to become a home for raccoons?
Only time will tell.
It seems that often people don’t notice the same things I do. Sometimes I think I’m a little too observant for my own good. But this week, I noticed something that I don’t think anyone could miss.
On the way into town one evening, we noticed a plastic playhouse. A molded plastic cube that seemed relatively new and in good shape. It sat in the weedy median, on its side and lonely. Its only companions were a red sedan and a puzzled blonde woman.
My husband and I immediately began speculating. How had the playhouse ended up in the median? Had it fallen off of a truck? Had someone left it behind? And, more curious, who was the woman and what did she intend to do with the playhouse? There was no way she could fit it into her tiny car or secure it onto the roof.
We went about our evening, not thinking much about the mystery. But when we returned, the story had taken a new turn.
Even in the darkness, it was easy to see that the red sedan and blonde woman were gone, but the playhouse was still on the side of the road. Now, though, it sat on the other side of the road in pieces. I don’t know what happened to it, but it met a tragic end.
Alas, the playhouse didn’t stand a chance, especially if the woman did indeed try to bring it home on her car.
The sun leans down
to kiss the horizon
before turning off
when you were young,
sixth grade, awkward hair,
trying to find yourself.
You were the class clown,
teacher’s pet, quiet one,
queen bee, reflective writer.
I loved teaching you.
Years passed, you grew up,
but you never stopped
smiling at me in the halls,
taking classes just because
I taught them, talking about
the days when you were young.
But now you are grown up
ready to leave these halls,
and I am left feeling old
and wondering if I’ll see you again.
You toss your hat, leave the stage,
leave a special place in my heart.
This year’s A-Z challenge was a different experience, but I liked it. Sometimes in the whirlwind of lesson plans, grades, and housework, it’s easy to forget about spending some time every day (or at least a every few days) to do something creative. This put the pressure on to make it happen, and I feel some fresh inspiration.
Speaking of creativity, tomorrow is Intergalactic Star Wars Day!
It’s always one of my favorite days of the year, but it’s especially fun this year. Not only do I get to traipse around school wearing an homage to Star Wars (after all, there is still a dress code), but some friends found a Star Wars themed paint night. A picture of that will be up Monday!
So now, back to our regular posting schedule and more creative things — painting, poetry, stories, and otherwise — to come!
And May the fourth be with you… always.
How did your A-Z Challenge go? And are you celebrating May the 4th?