Hand Held

Honestly, I planned to be asleep by now. Before I went upstairs to turn in for the night, I looked back. I looked back on some poems I had written over the last year. These poems I’ve tried to neatly collect electronically within my blog. Some include pictures that I’ve tied to the words. Then I came across this one and everything stopped. The TV showing hockey highlights in the background seemed suddenly useless. The hour now equally unimportant. I love the picture. But perhaps, even as wordy as I can get, I might not ever find the room, the length, or even the words worthy of the flood of thought and memory that resonates within me when I see this picture. If ever there was a place in my heart that another ever held, my Aunt Janette still occupies a special space there. If you care to gain further understanding, look under the Tributes section of this blog and look for Aunt Janette. I’ll be here enjoying the memories associated with this picture for a while. Wishing again to be hand held.

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Generation Jumping

This weekend I drove my parents to New Brunswick, Canada, where my mom was born and raised. The trip was planned, and made, to visit with my Aunt Janette who is currently sick with cancer, in the hospital. We arrived in Woodstock late Friday afternoon and visited with family throughout the evening and even into the wee hours of the morning. Another aunt of mine, a second double cousin, and I stayed at one of my mother’s double cousin’s house. My parents stayed with another of her double cousins. If you are not familiar with the term ‘double cousin’, it goes something like this. A long time ago three brothers married three sisters … the definition: A set of brother and sister married a set of brother and sister, so their children will be double cousins (meaning they’ll be cousins with the same people on both their mother and father’s sides). Not only that, two of the families actually lived on the same farm for a while, but that’s a story for another time.