Once again, I’m packing. I
thought when we moved to Colorado that would be my final time to pack. But,
alas, Hubby is not enamored with the place I called home during my childhood
and teen years.
Prior to the start of
packing, I made some hard decisions. No more moving of things we don’t use and
no more taking up of space with “stuff.”
Regarding stuff, last week
I found some things that I had rescued from my parent’s attic while we were
getting their house ready to sell. These very precious items were from my
childhood. At the time it seemed important to keep them. Now, not so much.
My big sixth grade
accomplishment was to win an art contest and have my pencil drawing displayed
at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center. Yep, you’ve got it – that was one of
the priceless things kept in the attic. The title of this 12” X 18” mounted
(well, semi-mounted now) treasure is, “The Llama.”
Verla Lacy Age
11
Grade 6Y
Palmer School
Detail: Head of “The Llama”
The second treasure I
rescued was a booklet of poems I made for Mother’s Day during third grade.
Cover: MOTHER’S DAY at the
top, TO MOTHER amidst the flowers.
The first poem (aka cursive
writing exercise) was about Mother’s Day. I am relatively certain Mrs.
Hodgekinson cared more about cursive than she did our mothers. But I digress. My
poem went as follows:
Mother’s Day
Mother’s Day is here
And Mothers’ so dear
So now on my tree
May blossoms I see.
When May flowers come
The huming birds hum
Mother’s Day is here
Mother’s Day so dear
by
Verla Ruth Lacy
This rhyming little nothing
clearly indicates that I had no idea it was my mother who should be honored
rather than the day.
The second page has a poem
about Spring. My concrete thinking processes served me well here.
Spring
Spring, Spring, Spring is
here
Joy is gay and clear
The birds are singing
And their chirps ringing.
Spring, Spring, Spring is
here
A happy Spring day
The sun’s very bright
And clouds very light.
by
Verla Ruth Lacy
Off to do more packing
today.
And throw some of these “treasures”
away!
(William Wordsworth, move
over. I still have that rhyming thing going.)
FYI younger generation: Gay used to mean bright and lively. (See Spring poem.)
