Think spring

I am thinking of my mother, my grandmther ; Today I amthinking of me. Who are we; but versions of our past? What part of me is grandma (sitting there on the porch of her garage; waiting for us to come and visit. The smell of sweat and hard work still on her as she watches the skyline and we pull into her driveway. Her happiness on being outside on such a beautiful day is contagious and her and my mother sit down to talk. We children go straight to the tire swing (or the big giant hill that my long dead grandfather had made to protect his little family from the threat of nuclear war)

I am this woman today. Today as pull weeds and small stems of weedy trees from my garden beds. I smell the earth and the dirt and it is here that I miss my grandmother. I miss my mother even though she is not gone. I miss the young woman with beauty and tiredness she wear as a crown. I see the children allaound her ; always a girl child mom. are you sorry for that? I see her youth flush on her face; life is hard she knew that; but her and my dad were still bestest friends and she can not imagine the unhappiness that would confront her when this was no longer the truth. The anger that would overwelm her. and us. Itwould confound us and confuse us. My dad would hide in his computers or turn his head like he couldn't see when she was trying so hard to get him to SEE.

We didn't see even though we tried (some more then others) I wear that brokeness of my mothers'. I wear it as a crown of thorns. I see it today and even though we SEE it. We can not fix it. The anger which is still there stays mute most days ; but I still hold back from hugging her;all her hugs to most beloved children .. they are all one sided. I hope we feel BIG to act so SMALL. My poor mother.. we are so afraid of you..so weary.

I am my mother nonetheless in my (shooting daggers at my husband for daring to interrupt a moment of thought) I sit and wait for the other shoe to drop. ( like my mother)

I am my grandmother and I am her daughter. I see them together both broken (having lost their entire family in five short years) My grandfather dead of a long fought cancer; only five years later the eldest daughter also succombed. (today that cancer Hodgkins is mostly beatable; but in the late sixties and eary seventies it was not) I see my grandmother pushing, squishing her daughter closer; willing the young adoloscent to be both daugthers; instead of just Judy. I see my mother pulling, running .. away from that need of her mothers' as we pull away from our mothers' need (all five us girls) afraid to take all of the pain becaus the pain might break us too.

I am myself; the whole world sitting on my shoulders'. always fearful of losing all my loves. I am myself clinging to my little children; begging, daring for their age to slow down. I am proud of them and their accomplishments; but, I live in fear as my mother and my grandmother and I don't want them to leave me. I want them to be my little children forever. Never ever to pull away from me as I hug them tightly. I don't want them to die as my grandmothers' family died on her.

I am my grandmother and my mother love and happiness alight on their faces i the first gleanings of spring. Their love for life was contagious and intoxicating. I hope to be as strong as them. I hope to never lose so much as they lost. If I do however; I hope to make it through and endure. To not snap off like pieces of tiwgs worn out from the harsh winter. I hope to be made of stronger stuff; like this famiy of mine whom; although worn in places were still beautiful and whenever spring arrives; I will always always think of them and the glory of the earth.