Tags
@TheosTrek, Childhood, Memories, Original Poetry, Post-a-Day 2011 Challenge, Sidey's Weekend Theme
The first home I remember – I was two or three years old.
I’m squatting down, hands on knees, near the steps of our back threshold.
A long black line of tiny ants have a hold on my attention –
Up from the lawn, climbing the steps, in a twisting yet orderly way,
They steadily marched along their own path, an enchanting insect ballet,
As I hummed and sang for them a tune of my own invention.
I must have lost some interest, after my lingering inspection,
Perhaps my brother came along, pulling me in another direction.
I do not remember what called me away, but always clear in my mind
Is that first discovery for myself there was a world outside of me –
The wonder found in lesser things that only child-like eyes can see,
And finding we are all a part of the Creation God designed.
Returning to my childhood, not in behavior, but remembrance,
Brings back those guileless feelings, and I detect some semblance
Of the sequence in my growth to one with smug and adult mind.
I feel a prick of sadness that the loss of childhood brings
When an open mind and heart can bring such joy in simple things.
I have an opportunity each day to search, perhaps to find
Those parts of me I buried ‘neath the things I thought more pressing:
The news, the bills, aches and pains, and appointments, all the stressing
Over such that brings no joy or wonder, that stifles imagination.
I remember that heaven welcomes those who enter as a child,
Not childish – but with boundless hope, and innocence undefiled,
And we may all reach out, reclaiming childhood’s liberation.
©Paula Tohline Calhoun 2011
Written for Sidey’s (View From the Side) weekend theme – Childhood.
I have two memories from my early childhood – the one recounted above about the ants, and the second, at around the same time (maybe a bit earlier) of my father returning home after an extended business trip in Europe. He was gone for about 6 months. Much of the story has been recounted to me, but this part of the story is one that I truly remember: Daddy brought back many souvenirs from England and France – where he spent the majority of his time. One of those souvenirs was for me, and it the sort of thing that’s not appropriate for a child at that young age, but could be enjoyed and treasured later on. It was a glass snow-globe with the Eifel Tower inside. I remember vividly how it looked (beautiful), and of my Mom or Dad placing it carefully into my hands, for me to hold, just for a moment. It must have been much heavier than I could handle, because the scene indelibly etched in my mind is the slow-motion fall of the globe from my hands and seeing it shatter in a million pieces on the hardwood floor; the water and “snow” inside the globe spreading all over the floor. Oddly enough I don’t remember whether I was upset or sad about it. In retrospect, however, I have always been a bit sad and wistful about not having that snow globe!
What I do have from that time of my life is a small musical jewelry box, that plays “La Vie en Rose.” When the box opens, a ballerina pops up and twirls to the music. As a young child I tried to change the ballerina in it, by changing her clothes and painting her body a different color, so she looks sort of odd, but the music still plays. It’s still a wonderful memory. I’m glad my parents kept that one out of my hands until I was old enough to keep from breaking it!
Hope you are all able to enjoy revisiting your childhood. It can be an interesting and eye-opening journey!
I wish you enough. . .
Reflections From a Cloudy Mirror 
Amazing Write, brilliantly done.:), thank you very very much, WS
Thank you very much!
A nice poem about childhood. How I wish I was younger, even though I’m still pretty young;)
As long as you hang onto your ability – we all have it – to look around and see around you with wonder, you will always have the younger self within, and can return to it often. The problem comes when we simply forget what it was like to be a child who looks at everything with awe and/or wonder.
Thank you for your visit and kind comment.
sweet,
Happy Rally.
🙂
keep the precious moment alive, smiles.
Thanks as always, Jingle. You have always been kind with your comments.
Dear Paula
You took me to a world of my childhood nerly forgotten in the busy-ness of the concrete jungle.. lovely. Many times those ants have held my attention and I have followed their path many times… thanks for reminding me of those paths…
Thanks for joining in the Poetry Potluck WK 43 which I am hosting for the first time… hope you have liked it too…. and wish to see you again…
Shashi
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/07/whispers-cuckoos-song-and-smell-of-love.html
At Twitter @VerseEveryDay
Thank you so much, Shashi! That’s part of what I love so much about prompts. You are given a word or theme which can evoke so many memories. I know Sidey would be delighted for you to join in on contributing your “take” on each weekend’s theme. She usually has just one-word prompts, but I am always amazed at the different things people come up with!
Again, thank you, and I look forward to visiting your site a.s.a.p. and reading your rally entry!
tender memories,
there are infinite potential in all children, glad to see you lived a happy aND remarkable childhood.
As always, thank you Jingle!
I had two of those dancing ballerina jewellery boxes too 😀 thanks for sharing your memories.
Mine has been co-opted by one of my sisters-in-love. I plan on reacquiring it for our granddaughter, Zoë! She has it not because I gave it to her, or that she just “stole” it, but because when we were moving my Mom out of her house, before she came to live with us, it had been left in a box. Kay found it, and she has been “keeping” it for me! 🙂
A familiar story that I can relate to. I visit my past quite often as I write my stories and poems. You have written a beautiful piece here. Nicely done and well told.
Thank you so much – again – Charles!
A lovely poem and story, I can imagine you would have been devastated when the snow globe broke. My shop was called La Vie En Rose 🙂
It took me a long time to recognize the tune from my music box. I didn’t know Edith Piaf back then, (I was just a little tyke). The tune name written on the bottom of the box was “Theme from ‘The Third Man.'” The way the little musicbox theme is played, it starts with the chorus, and then plays the verse. When I was old enough to see the movie, I at last knew. . .
Thank you, as always, for your encouraging words!
Isn’t it strange, the memories our mind decides to keep? Those events had to be so singularly powerful that they were permanently filed into memory, while others, perhaps of much more significance, faded away with time. The human mind is such a wonder.
It is indeed odd. I tend to think, however, that the things most fixed in our minds are the things we most need to recall. I don’t know, exactly, why I have held on to so many different memories, but I believe that the reasons might be:
Whatever caught my attention at the moment, is a moment I “revisited’ over and over again over my life, thus enforcing the memory.
Also, the reasons I revisited and held on to those incidents or slices of time are because they became essential to me in terms of growing up and forming my perceptions of life and the world around me. They became pivot points for me as I grew and were concrete imaginable examples of what I needed to learn.
I know there are probably important things that I might not recall as a memory per se, but those sorts of things just integrate in the growing process, and probably are not needed as touchstones or reminders.
Anyway, it’s a theory! Thanks for the comment and the visit!
That was lovely, made me smile and feel happy for you
Glad you smiled! I did too as the memory popped up!
It’s a lovely poem, Paula.
I’m glad you still have the jewellery box.
Thank you Tinman! I appreciate the visit and the compliment!
I do agree that you are able to pull from this reader some of the things resting in the back of my mind. Thank you for bring them to their proper place in my life. That was beautiful. You have a way with words, Paula.
Some memories bring joy, some wonder, and some sadness. They are all worth recalling at different times, because they can help keep us in touch with who we are and where we come from, and hopefully how we’ve grown. As long as we can grow with at least some of our innocence intact, we will always be able to return to that time in our lives when everything was new, and be grateful.
This is another beautiful poem to add to your “best” collection. You’ve triggered my own early “self” memory of holding my pet rabbit, feeling its soft fur, outside our apartment house in Changchow, China. I also remember feeling very seasick onboard the converted troop ship Marine Lynx, sitting on deck next to the tin rectangular “seasick” bucket, during the first few days at sea heading for China as missionaries.
Beautiful poem and thanks for the memories,
Hubs
Thank you again, Darling, as always! You make my heart sing, and help me to remember all the wonderful things of my life, and you are chief among them!