I usually don't explain my poems, and this one today may seem so trivial and simple, but I must explain it. I live in Redding, CA where we just experienced one of the most devastating fires in California history. Entire neighborhood blocks are gone, burned to nothing but ash and rubble and chimneys. Burned out hulls of cars are still sitting in the garages, only recognizable by twisted and tortured ashen gray garage doors. The smoke is still thick and heavy. 38,000 people had to evacuate their homes. I had to gather my children around and tell them that we might lose everything we have.
So when we were allowed to return to our home, it was still there. I took time, though, to go to the places where the devastation was most significant, and I wept. I spent two nights preparing for the loss of everything, and I didn't lose anything. There are others who returned to a pile of ash where their beautiful homes had been. I know we often think of our "stuff" as just stuff but these places are where some of our most cherished memories are. These places are what we've poured out our hearts and souls into.
I hope I never forget the feeling I had when I first stepped into my home the day we returned. I can only describe it as an overwhelming gratitude. This is what I feebly attempted to capture, but as they always say, "I can't put it into words." And that's ok. Those are the truly meaningful times of life. So, with that, here is "Windowsill."
Windowsill
I see my plants in the windowsill
And I am thankful
I walk across the wooden floors
Carpets maligned
I am thankful indeed
I pass some clothes the children have strewn on the floor
Gratefulness
These simple things of life aren’t smoke in the air
They are daily reminders that life is very good indeed
For that I am forever thankful
For the simple greenery in the windowsill
For the simple greenery in the windowsill
8/11/18
