Tag Archives: childhood

#MidnightMadness – 5/20/2017

Autumn with berry

Certain discoveries were made today at the lunch table…

“Look mom!  A head with a hat!”

~Autumn Cook (Age 8)

I never knew blueberries and raspberries could look like people.  Lol…  😉

#MidnightMadness – 5/18/2017

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Well… have you?  Lol… If so, what did you try and what have you discovered?  😉


Photo credit: funny-quotes.picphotos.net

#MidnightMadness – 5/5/2017

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One night, my youngest daughter Autumn (who was about 5 yrs. old at the time) was visited by the tooth fairy.  The next morning I asked her if the tooth fairy had come.  She nodded yes and had a very glum look on her face.  I asked her what was wrong and she told me to come see for myself.  After following her into her bedroom, she pulled out a one dollar bill from under her pillow and said, “See… this is what she gave me!”  I said, “Oh, a dollar!  That’s exciting!  She shook her head in disagreement and said, “Well, the last time I got a whole quarter!”


Photo credit: pixabay.com

Photograph

 

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Me – age 5

 

Hidden away

In the recesses

Of a forgotten room

There lies a young

Misplaced soul

Fair and bright-eyed

With an angelic smile

She awaits

An unexpected admirer

Sheer panels

Of wispy white fabric

Flow fluidly

From a bare window

Gently reassuring her

That the breeze

Has not abandoned her

Tiny elbows rest firmly

On a desk made

Especially for her

Small delicate hands

Tuck up under

A brave little chin

She sits in seclusion

While the world

Ignores her plight

Memories of her

Once eager presence

Have long been erased

The days

Of her childhood

A far distant memory

Captured long ago

In a well-posed portrait

Now the only

Living testament

Of her short-lived existence

The remainder

Of her days

Now spent resting

On a dusty ledge

Few remembering

Her delightful carefree spirit

As the years

Pass silently by


Written by, Michelle Cook


Originally posted: September 16, 2016

#MidnightMadness – 4/8/2017

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I am the oldest of three and grew up with a sister who is seven years younger than me.  I can still remember the very first time our mother served my sister a chicken leg for dinner.  She was probably about four years old, and she looked up at our mother, with her innocent baby blue eyes, and in her teeny tiny voice she said,

“Mommy, do I hold it by the handle?” 

Everyone promptly burst out laughing and it’s been something which none of us have ever forgotten.  I really wish I would have written down more of the things my own girls have said over the years.  There were a ton of funny things, but sadly I can’t remember the majority of them anymore.


Photo credit: pinterest.com

Featured Writer – John Horner

Sandbox Souvenirs

In myriad ways, now and since,
I’m less a formidable force than then,
When I was Icarus on a banana-seat Schwinn,
A Double Dragon defeater on fifty cents,
A baleful Blackfoot in dun buckskin,
Or a Ranger with hardened steel in his chin.

Deep thoughts were enumerated tootsie pop licks
Or scissor-splitting spit-clogged pixie sticks;
Didn’t take it too hard on a Sadie Hawkins miss—
Holding hands was adventurous, never mind a kiss;
And wouldn’t make too much of the little pinpricks
A bully might brandish against a simple bliss.

Miss Welch taught me cursive for counted naught;
Miss Bryant once jacked me to my toes by an ear
(I feigned half-deaf-to-left for the rest of that year);
Principal Eubanks had the handle on a hardwood swat
And kept my mother’s work-number too damn near—
My heart pocketed it all as a sandbox souvenir.

There seemed less to lose and more to ponder,
In a Members Only jacket impossible to launder
And pants of patched and pearl-snapped corduroy;
If there be any brilliance in me, or purest joy,
Any brightness beyond my most selfish squander,
Let it be the beam of that brave and unbroken boy.

Written by, John Horner

For more of John’s wonderful poems, please visit his website here.


Photo credit: pixabay.com

No talking back!

I’ve always felt bad for sharing what’s on my mind.  Maybe this sort of feeling stems from my childhood, back when children were to be “seen and not heard.”  I wasn’t allowed to voice my opinions about anything or express my emotions without being told I was, “talking back.”

I was a very shy and quiet child, but as the years went by, I grew completely tired of having to stay quiet.  My mother was happy with me, as long as I did what I was told and didn’t interrupt.  By the time high school rolled around, I had had enough of being silent, and I began rebelling against my mother.

I think I threw her into a tizzy the day I finally left home.  My mother had kept me in a submissive rut for too many years.  She stifled my ability to have friends and had controlled my entire life.  I couldn’t take it any longer and after she dared me to leave, I was all too eager to accept the invitation.

After the last yelling match we ever had, I ran to my room in a huff, packed a bag, and left before she even had a chance to know what I was up to.  I never looked back and I’ve never once regretted my decision.  It felt so good to finally be free.  Yes, I was only 18 years old at the time and I hadn’t even finished high school yet, but I was determined to make it on my own and I did.

Still to this day, I find it easy to let go of people in my life who try to drag me down; especially those who try to control me.  And I feel so awful for the people around me, who let others get away with controlling them.  I also have no room for people who really don’t want to be a part of my everyday life and those who would rather keep me at arm’s length.  I lived that sort of life for far too long and life is too short to live like that again.

I suppose that’s why in the last year, I’ve turned to writing poetry.  I can say what I want, without anybody really knowing what I am actually writing about.  I can be serious, funny, or completely imaginative.  That’s the wonderful thing about writing, I can tell any story I want, true or not, and I don’t have to answer to anybody for it.  This is what I love most about blogging and this is why I continue to write.

WordPress has become sort of a home away from home for me.  It allows me to share my daily burdens and pain, along with my hopes and dreams for the future.  It’s the only place I can really share my heart completely and not be told to keep silent.  There’s freedom in being able to share one’s deepest thoughts and desires and there’s happiness in being able to express one’s ideas and viewpoints without criticism.  So thank you to all of you for being such good listeners and for offering your love and support along the way.  It’s meant the world to me.  ~M

My Best Memories of Her

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Reading books at bedtime

Was the very best part of my day

She nurtured me and loved me

And taught me how to pray

Sometimes she’d sing songs to me

All in her very best voice

She sang those songs beautifully

As my little heart rejoiced

I remember visits to the parks

Where she’d push me on the swings

Days like that we’re filled with fun

And oh… I had so much energy!

Long walks on the beaches

Inspired my deep love of the sea

She’d take my hand as we’d walk along

And I was as happy as I could be

Now that I’m much older

Those memories have started to fade

I miss those precious moments we shared

Back in life’s more innocent days

I don’t get to see her very often

Yet fond memories still abide in my heart

I’m grateful that someday in another life

We will never have to be kept apart

 

Written by, Michelle Cook

 

Love you so much mom… Have a very Happy Mother’s Day! ❤  xoxo


Photo credit:  imgarcade.com

Finding Positivity

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The scene is pictured

All in black and white

As a sweet young boy

Attempts to fly his kite

 

Looking around

Nobody else seems to be there

It looks as if he’s all alone

Without anyone to care

 

Determination marks

His pale small face

He’s never been considered more

Than a boy of disgrace

 

Now deep in thought

Concentrating with all of his might

He lets told negativity go

And readies his handmade kite

 

She’s a beauty for sure

And he’s determined to make her fly

Holding her steady against the wind

The release sends her soaring high

 

Proud of his accomplishment

He stands and he stares

Watching her fly over the earth

So very high up in the air

 

Much happier now

Than he’s ever quite been

He watches her intently

As she soars on the wind

 

Delighted in his success

He feels quite proud

He finally found a bit of positivity

By looking up toward the clouds

 

 

Written by, Michelle Cook  Kite flying emoticon


Photo found at: flickr.com

Sad but true…

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“Unfortunately… corruption is often the result of an inadequate childhood” ~M