Monday, August 8, 2011

After the Playground

I have a poem up at Literary Mama called "After the Playground" that recreates a playground experience at the Hayt School in our old neighborhood in Chicago. I was just visiting old friends in Chicago this weekend and having that nostalgia of place. The very air reminded me of summers past.

Today, by chance, my sweet sixteen daughter is headed up to Chicago on the train, with her boyfriend, to meet her brother, and his friend who is a girl, and old friends from our old neighborhood, the one with Hayt School in it and also St. Gertrude's parish, where my kids started school. They plan to go to the beach, so I hope the weather holds. If not, the Lincoln Park Zoo. Or maybe the Field Museum, to see the Whales!

Their childhood is rolling back over me today, and their future is rolling out before me, a beautiful bluegrass carpet. Oh, my dears!


7 comments:

risaden said...

The poem speaks, so much we don't anticipate, or if we did, we would never start ...

Kathleen said...

Thanks, Risa. And we get through it.

Maureen said...

Wonderful poem, Kathleen. And you're so right: We do get through it, and, fortunately, also get to see how many more gifts our children give us.

Kathleen said...

Thanks, Maureen. The gifts of joy are ongoing, and now, with each child, a new kind of closeness.

seana said...

Very nice. My nephew has a scar on his eyebrow from a very similar sort of early childhood event, and he will be fourteen in the fall. The sneer hasn't developed yet, but I wouldn't say he's exactly scorn free, either.

ted tingley said...

Neat. Free hugs all around.

Kathleen said...

Thanks for hugs and words!

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