She is getting up there. In her letter she said I would understand what this poem meant since I work with little kids. I am hanging out with them for a while here in western NC - just trying to help.
My favorite times when I come up here are the late-night hours when my stepdad and other visitors are asleep and we talk of the old days or share what we think about the news, politics, religion - the things you only talk about with your best friends (and not all of them). Sometime long ago, I don't remember when, our relationship changed. I was a bratty and disobedient young man. My mom loved me anyway. I said mean things to my parents between the good things. My mom loved me anyway. I was rebellious without cause. My mom loved me anyway.
But at some point, I learned to appreciate her beautiful inner self and she looked me as a man and not just her son. Now we are best friends. I don't know many folks who think of their moms as their best friends. It is one of my greatest blessings.
I don't know who wrote this poem. Let me know if you do.
Dappled Light
I am old
Or so my body is
My mind however
Denies
Just yesterday
I was chasing footballs
Or courting dreams
But today
I couldn't tie my shoes
Where did the time go
Between then and now
My vibrant young self
Suddenly vanished
I still have my dignity
Or at least I need to
Please don't take that too
Oh ravisher of age
My children are all so busy
Chasing their own footballs
Courting their own dreams
I don't want to burden them
I just need a little help
A little company
Somebody to maybe
Tie my shoes
I just need a little care
I hope that's not too much to ask
If only I could just figure out
How to ask
Hey I know
I'll ask please
That's how I can ask you
The way I have all my life
I still have plenty of life
It's just different now
Dappled
Like the light shining through the trees
Onto the forest floor
Spotted
Not as blaring and bright
Brilliant and beautiful
In a gentle way
My skin is spotted too
As is my memory
My spirit though
My spirit is clear
I know God
I have lived my years
I have had many talks
So despite the frail of my bones
And the fail of my strength
I have no fear
I just need a little help
During this time of my life
The twilight time
Of dappled light and setting suns
Hold my hand and hear my tales
Tie my shoes so I don't trip
Honor this path
Of twilight time
And share with me the peace
Of walking with dignity
In dappled light
6 comments:
Hi Tim,
Hey, I knew you when you were a young man, and I vividly recall you as kind, gentle and open-hearted. I suppose almost every young man says a few things to his parents he regrets later. Ya' gotta' 'cut the cord'. Everybody -- especially his parents -- knows that. Part of it is up to your parent too -- I have a warm relationship with my Mom, but that's probably more to her credit than it is to mine. She's a pleasant person. Some elderly people (like some young ones) are not so pleasant.
You're a pretty lucky guy. There is so much to think about here. I find it really neat that there is such a book-endish connection between our little ones and people coming into the dappled light. I got a little sad thinking about the dappledness of light. Missing the brightness. But light with the occasional shadow provides for a chance to notice the light more. When something is so abundant in my life, I tend to take it for granted. With a little contrast, we can recognize its beauty, presence, and worth. Such a great share. Thank you.
That's a lovely poem. I tried googling it to find the author for you but when I hit "search" your post was actually the third hit on the screen. The others had nothing at all to do with this poem. Maybe you should just go ahead and take credit.
I hope your mom is doing well right now. Some trips, I know, are more taxing - physically and emotionally. That said, I hope you're doing well, too.
I'm anxious to see you guys next week. It seems like it's been a long, long time.
Beautiful. I hope things are going well up there. Praying for you all.
The other night we played a game and had to make sounds people commonly make that mean something but that have no words. These are wonderful sounds, but they are hard to spell. I am trying to spell Nnnnnggggggg. It's the closest thing to the sound I made as I read your post. Yes, the poem is touching (and if anyone should be randomly assigned credit, I'm sure Chris will agree it should go to your MOM...) and so very real and true, but I am making my ouchy-achy-heart sound because you are there with her and you also see the miracle that is.
I only have my husband's parents to love and care for and "manage" now, and while I do all of those things, nothing will ever replace the time I've lost with My Sweet Momma. Nor will anything replace those moments when she needed me more than I needed her, whether I was able to be there or not. You are sitting among treasure right now, far greater than anything tangible.
That said, I also am making the sound HMMMMmmmmmm (can you tell it started high and went down the scale with a smily comfortable tone? see - this is hard) because I was able to hang out in the dappled light with my in-laws today, helping Grandad (who should not be alive, by any medical explanation) work on his Nook App, his iTunes account, his YMCA research, his office cords... It is such a blessing to be needed and to be able to meet those needs. Or not. It's just great to be real with each other.
Glad you have had some time to go spend with your mom.
I, too, am one of the lucky ones because, like you, my mother is a best friend. You're right, what a blessing that is.
And your mom is blessed as well, to have such a kind, thoughtful son. I'm sure she knows and appreciates that fact.
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