March 23, 2019.
I am sorting through all the detritus we humans tend to collect through the years, garbage bags handy. The thought that someday, we may leave this earth and leave all the "treasures" for other people to clean up and muddle through does not fill me with pleasure. Hence, the early spring clean out. I found a number of short stories that I had written as assignments in the numerous Creative Writing classes, both when I lived in Edmonton and in White Rock. Some stories not so bad with a bit of editing, some laughable and given the toss. I did find some poetry scraps, along with one I had written about my daughter when she was just going on sixteen, I believe. It brought back a memory, about which I still feel rather soppy.
Our Summer weekends were generally spent at Sylvan Lake; me spread out on the beach getting fried and storing up future sun damaged skin. (unfortunately now beginning to show). I was watching my son and daughter teasing each other or whatever, when I suddenly realized Brenda was no longer a child. I think every parent gets that shock followed with the idea that we have missed something in the meantime.
To my Daughter
Your whole world was
Kittens and puppies
All those things little girls do
Time was only today
I watched
You running across the sand
Light shimmering
Over shapes and curves
Bubbling laughter thru long hair
Windblown across your face
You had suddenly shed
Plain paper wrapping
All luster and beauty
Shining beneath.