#8 - Drew

 

All my favorite gifts come from you.

My bicycle - sweet Helena!

The shoe rack of Ultimate Glory,

and a shared childhood,

memories that shore up mine.

You make the hardest things easier.

I hope someday I can show up for you

even half as much as you have for me.

With love,

Elizabeth

#7 - Jill

 

If Jill was a garden,

that garden would have giraffes

or llamas, fun and whimsy.

I used to think you were lucky.

But seeing you choose joy, choose delight,

seeing the work you do

to shape giraffes from greenery,

I see your skill.

Every walk we take, 

we move forward.

With love,

Elizabeth

#6 - Mr. Thomas

 

This is my face at 15 when asked

to write a five paragraph theme.

You, with dry wit, calm guidance, and very restrained amusement,

will not be surprised

how much I've learned to love form,

Simplicity. Structure.

They have proved enduring and practical.

Some lessons do sink in, eventually.

With gratitude and thanks,

Elizabeth

Decades: how's it going?

My goal is to send one postcard per week to someone in my life who matters to me. I try to write a single (short!) poem on each card. My original draft plan takes ten weeks at a time, chooses one person per week, and I think about that person all week. I write in a notebook, I write multiple drafts of what I think I want to say. It definitely takes lots of drafts to find the heart of the matter, and even once I've sent the poem, I can be plagued with some version of - oh, no, that's not what I wanted to say.

I've even considered sending some of those folks an explanatory letter, either because I've been out of touch with them or because I think the poem, coming out of nowhere, won't make sense. Or even, I assume the bulk of the writing will get obscured by postal cancellation markings and make even less sense.

But there's no getting around the fact that normally, I use too many words. And the size of a postcard means, simply, I can't. So no cheating with additional letters to recipients. I put this blog's address and my instagram handle on each card, with the hope that if someone is confused, they have access to more context.

Here's what I'm discovering so far: as long as I know at the beginning of the week who I'm meditating on, I'm really enjoying the practice of exploring memories of them, of their influence, their wisdom. A postcard is good because I can never really distill what these people mean to me, so whatever I choose to say is at least something, a little murmur of thanks. 

I'm trying to let go of writing "good" poems, and instead just write whatever seems best at the time. This is difficult for me. I'll let you know if it gets easier.

Oh, I've fallen a little behind, but I choose not to worry about it. I'm doing this for myself, to thank others, to take stock. Having a map to complete this a bit at a time helps, but life keeps life-ing, so I choose to catch up when I can, as long as I still get some thinking time about each person. 

How's it going? It makes me feel lucky, thinking about all of you, all the people I'm lucky enough to know and spend time with and be taught by. And it reminds me to be a person who is grateful and delighted by you all. Thanks, everyone.

#5 - Dad

 

How do I encapsulate

how we loved each other?

When I say: I knew you loved me,

I can just as easily say: you knew I loved you.

The only way I have survived your death

is that I was forced to survive your illness

as you ebbed farther and farther away.

The only way I survive your absence

is to look in my own child's eyes,

and try to love her

as well as you loved me.

#4 - Tiff

 

You and your sister first taught me how to love a child,

love no matter what, love no action can undo.

So I had my own child, and life has been

often murky, a late Turner of uncertainty,

But with sunlight always discernible.

Landscapes will sharpen in time.

Love will always enlighten.

Thanks for the lesson.

With love, Elizabeth

#3 - Susan

We are adventurers, you and I.
Who would have expected stillness from either of us?
Expected (relatively) unchanging addresses?

Is it any surprise our minds are sometimes far away?

No fear - even eagles make nests
and sit in them, for a time.

It does not change their wingspan.

With love, Elizabeth

 

Decade One: Kid Times

 As I think about life and who's been important to me, I keep looking for photos. This is tricky because there are plenty of things that were incredibly important to me that I have no photos of, and conversely things that I have a ton of photos of that I don't care about or don't remember.

But here's a super fun memory photo:

This is, I *think*, my fifth birthday, which my mom arranged as a "dress-up" party. In my memory, this was COMPLETELY AMAZING. I wore an old dress of my aunts, I think, with that enormous silk bow in my hair, and everyone else had fun hats and gloves and such - you can see the fab chunky necklace on the kid next to me in blue! It's 1979, and we are dressed to the nines and eating chocolate cake.

I have no idea what else we did at this party - we were in fancy clothes so we couldn't have done much, but everyone looked great. 

#2 - Eddie

From you, I noticed
Silence is a kind of listening - 
Music is a kind of speech.

I'm hankering for squash casserole,
stories of my grandparents,
and Friday night jam sessions in the GA mountains.

With love, Elizabeth