This has been a busy day for postings! Just came across this poem, written by my sister, Mim, 20+ years ago. Guess it was about thirteen or fourteen years ago that I made a journal for my sibs to write down family stories – their treasure trove of them is greater than mine, being eight, ten & fourteen years older than their baby sis.
It never got past Peter, who doesn’t know what happened to it. I’d hoped Mim would share some of the family tales – dating back to Mom’s little girl years – but it was not to be. I cherish this poem for all it speaks to, am wistful it sadly stopped there.
My Mother’s Stories
She sat with we, around our kitchen table, recounting the stories of her youth.
She talked while we washed all those dishes, or at the lake while we watched the sun set over quiet water.
My brothers & sister called these her “war stories,” all the adventures of Dorothy, Alpha, Bob, Kay & Beth – they live their lives again in my mother’s stories,
And I am forever connected to their adventures.
I smell the aromas, see the sights, hear the sounds, feel the feelings & bear the burdens
Of these children who lived in another time, and other places.
My mother made them live, and forever gave them life… in her stories.
My sister died two years ago this past July, never – to my knowledge – having written down those precious stories. She might have written them down, but the executor of estate never made her papers available to review. Sigh,,,,