MOTHER’S DAY
Fran
Two toddler boys run in for hugs and kisses,
but someone’s missing
Two little boys, bearing gifts made themselves,
but someone’s missing
My teenage sons, now working, take mom out for lunch,
but (more…)
—written by Fran
Being a caretaker for a loved one is challenging, life-changing and a lesson in finding joy in the simple things. It is riddled with medical crises, often accented by runs to the emergency room. Below is a page from Fran’s journal—written on a particularly calm day, March 31, 2007.
5:00 Saturday morning…. Time to get up, BC (our cat) has the insane idea she is hungry and now is the only time that will work for her!!
5:20 – Coffee, hot, creamy, and absolutely divine….I am now awake and going.
6:30 – All showered and ready for the day. Time to check on Jim, get him his first of the 35 pills he takes each day.
7:30 – Help Jim get dressed, he decides on breakfast, we eat. It’s a pleasant time to “chat”. No (more…)
—written by Fran
This poem was written by a young woman, Fran, in memory of her Aunt Kay and Kay’s six-month old daughter, Kate—who disappeared in Rhode Island in 1949 after a shopping trip. Authorities found the car (with the passenger door open), Kay’s purse and a baby blanket. No sign of the mother or child was ever found. Even today, Fran is left wondering if she has a cousin out there somewhere…
Do you walk the earth,
do you look like me?
Do you even know you’re
part of our family?
Have you known (more…)
—written by Fran
On January 9, 2007, an important family member died. Merc, a cat at fourteen years of age, announced that morning it was time. We knew, had known, just couldn’t make the decision. Ahh, but there is a wiser source, (to continue reading this story click on
Loss and Love )
To read another cat story click on The Cat With the Calico Tail
Little Ears Are Listening
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BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE
LITTLE EARS ARE LISTENING
Fran
“I want to be a body tool when I grow up!” little Jerry told his mom.
“A what?” the very surprised mom asked.
Jerry looked her square in the face and said, more loudly, “I told you I want to grow up to be a body tool just like daddy.”
The young mom was at a loss for words. Daddy was an ad executive who occasionally did ad work for tool companies, but to her knowledge the little boy had never seen any of them. And the last thing she wanted was for her son to (more…)