claw marks in rock
complete darkness
fear screams inside

trees swaying
walking beside him
love is coming

winter's crisp air
procession goes by
dark eyes

My father died January 2000 at the young age of 58. I remember this day as if it just happened yesterday. My brother and I decided to stay with my father, while my mother and the rest of the family went home to sleep. I had a feeling that this was it and I wanted to be there until the end because I had not been around for the last 19 years. I had a feeling that this was the end. The room was cold and uncomfortable. My father laid there with very shallow breathing that had been going on all day and his frail body would have jerk every so often. I watched the nurses come in and check on him make sure he was comfortable through out the day, preparing in for the inevitable, death. The time came everything was so quiet and all of a sudden his breathing stopped with a last sigh and he drifted away. I just froze, and waited because I just knew he would start breathing again. He didn’t. I woke my brother up and told him that dad just past and he just stared at me in disbelief. He instantly jumped up and shook my dad as if he would start breathing again. I just grabbed his arm and hugged him as he sobbed. I told him to go and called the family and after he left I went to my father and stopped his watch, and as I looked at him and rubbed his forehead it seemed like he was slowly transforming before my eyes from this sick fragile man to this man who suddenly looked young again. When my mother arrived I began to sob. We cremated my father a few days because that was his wish. That was the last time I was at my fathers grave site. On February 20, 2005, was the first time I returned to California since my father past away. I took flowers and went to go and see his grave and talk to him. All those emotions back from 4yrs when he died all came rushing back. I remember kneeling down and as the sun beamed on me to keeping me warm on that chilly day. I talk to him for a while and arranged the flowers I bought. I cleaned his headstone. Before I left I kissed the headstone and walked away, not knowing when I would return.

very shallow breathing
sick and fragile
stopped his watch

three little girls
left alone without
where is father's love?

I go back to a night when my daughters were small (five and eight years old). One hot summer evening we were watching television. I remember coming home from work that day thinking how the mugginess hung in the air; almost smelling the invisible rain. I knew would be coming soon. When the rain finally came, it brought winds, lightening and thunder. Instead of us turning out the lights like stated in the Haiku, God decided to turn them off for us. We lit candles and each of us grabbed a flashlight. It brought the three of us together, cuddled in a single self-made sleeping bag of Grandma’s quilts and pillows on the living room floor. We first just laid together in silence and listened to the fading wind and thunder. Next the flashing of “Mother Natures” lights ceased. All we could hear was the rain! I can remember the soft smell and feel of the quilts next to my skin, and the sweet fragrance of my children’s freshly shampooed hair. The silence was suddenly broken with laughter from tickling and being silly. Next we told stories, sang songs, and told each other what we loved the most about the other. It turned out to be a very special night; when God turned on the rain and turned off the lights!

power out
stories and songs
candles glow

company leaves
shoes come off
all can breathe

at first dawn
newspaper hits
damp pavement

popcorn popping
cuddled on the couch
watching love stories

birthday party
piñata
children running

I’m in the home I grew up in, small town in north Iowa, there was a noon whistle each day. Winters were horribly cold and snowy. It was one of these days, when all of us children were at home. The house is filled with the scent of cinnamon from the rolls my mother had made us earlier that morning. She stirred hot chocolate in a pan, enough for the seven of us. The sun was shining as we watched the stillness outside, only the snowplow and an occasional pick-up truck braved the snowy streets. The icicles that hung from the eaves dripped as the sun shown on them. The shadows on the clean wooden floor took on the shapes of the icicles, changing as they melted. We used to call out what we thought they looked like. At the sound of the noon whistle, we knew it was time for lunch. As we had been begging for hours to go outside, my mom told us we had to have lunch first. She would stir up soup and on this day we would be allowed to drink hot chocolate with it rather than the usual cold, white milk. She wanted us to be warm if we were to brave the cold.

We would race through lunch, as much as we could with hot soup, in anticipation of getting outdoors. When we had finished, we would prepare to venture out. Normally two shirts and a sweater, long underwear and jeans, always two pairs of socks and Mom would inspect us to be sure we had on enough clothing. She would help us get into our boots or ice skates and coats, pulling the hoods over our stocking caps, and tying them at the neck. Many times we would wear two pairs of gloves. Our scarves went around the necks of our coats, covering our mouths leaving only our eyes exposed to the cold.

We would go out the door of the house as quickly as we could, we were sweating by now, and didn’t want the heat to escape the house. We would go through our snowy backyard and the neighbor’s to shorten the block’s trip to the ice skating rink. We were happy to escape the confines of the house and happier when we reached the ice. There were other children there by now and we would join them. We were happy to be outside with our friends. (As I think back on it now, Mom was probably happy to have a still house for a brief time.)

Sometimes the outdoor venture would last less than half an hour as it was so cold. We would come home with running noses and bright red cheeks. She would smile and listen as we told her about our venture and help us remove our cold, wet clothes. It felt like a holiday since school had been cancelled that day.

cinnamon snowy stillness
seven children play
in the warmth of mother’s love

sunny winter’s midday
joyous children
skate

she smiles
as she sees the children’s
reddened cheeks

quiet house
as baby sleeps
upon my shoulder

humid sun
flower’s petals stay
closed

I’m seven years old and my mother makes most of my clothes as well as my sister and brothers clothes. I want to make my own clothes too! My mother spends hours teaching me what her mother taught her. Sewing isn’t just using the machine to put pieces of cloth together. Mother teaches me sewing is about measuring, cutting, following instructions, using patterns, patience, conserving, and taking pride in your work. Several trials enter our instruction time together, not enough money for the pretty buttons or the shiny fabric. My younger brother and sister need tending to also. The heat of the days doesn’t bother my mother while we sew. “Air conditioning costs too much money”, she says, “we will be just fine, how do you think grandma did it”? Mother just keeps doing what all mothers do, the best they can with what God gives them. As a teenager I wanted a new dress for church. I had feelings so bubbly when we went to the fabric store to pick out the beautiful brocade blue material. I felt the fabrics soft silky texture and could imagine how wonderful it was going to feel and look on me. I brought my babysitting money to buy the fabric; mother would never spend that much on material. I also get some white lace to trim my dress. I work on the dress for weeks making just the right adjustments. This dress is a labor of love to myself. Now I look at the dress in my closet that I have kept all these years and am anxious to teach my daughter to sew when she is old enough. I think of how I will teach her to wind the bobbin thread as I learned all those years ago.

lessons of life
two pieces of cloth
a pattern

heartbreak
pretty buttons
shiny fabric

My grandpa passed away in late fall. The frigid winter weather made it difficult for the stone to be placed on my grandfathers’ grave. In mid February the grounds had thawed and were at the right condition that the headstone could be placed. It was the for the first time on a early spring day when the birds were chirping, the sun warming you ever so slightly that my grandmother stood admits the smell of the blooming spring flowers at my grandfathers grave. The love that she had for my grandfather for 55 years was beaming on her face and filling the air with a heavely scent. While my grandmother was at the site she took a small bucket of water from out of the car and walked back to the grave site. The only sounds that were in the air was an occasional bird chirp and the sound of the water going from side to side as she was careful not to let any of the water spill. As she began to clean the headstone of the dust that had sellted on the stone she kneeled down and wept ever so slightly. She began to reminisce about the time they had together and how fortunate she was to have had such a happy life with him. As she kneeled there thinking of the winter that had passed and the suffering that went along with the months, she began to think about the new season upon us and knew that Grandpa was in a better place and no longer suffering. As she finished cleaning the stone she placed a bright bouquet of freshly cut spring flowers on the stone, then kissed her hand and placed it on the warm stone as a tear fell from her eye

grandma's kiss
winter washed away
tear fell on the stone

summer days
at the park
watching the years go by

lazy summer afternoons
sipping lemonade
my daughter and I

I remember when I was ten or eleven years old. My father took me to Great America amusement park in Gurnee, IL. I know about our trip for two weeks in advance. I was so excited about it. It was the summertime, hot, and in the month of July. I talked to my friends about it everyday, all day, and dreamed about it at night. The night before our trip, I could not sleep. I tossed and turned all night long. I got up early that morning and told my Dad it was time to go. But actually it wasn’t. It was five in the morning. My Dad told me it wasn’t time to go yet, we only live one hour away. When we got to the park, we got on every ride we could. When eight o’clock in the evening came, it was time to go home. It was always my dream stay at the park until closing. As we left, I remember looking at the amusement park with all the beautiful lights. I felt like I was on top of the world. Driving home, I would close my eyes and it would feel like I was still on a ride at the park.

sleepless nights
thrills during the day
sweet dreams tonight

the 6 a.m. call
my heart was broke
Holy Spirit the Comforter

father and daughter
in the car
silence in the air

action figure
small boy
big plans

ballet shoes
stage
waving to Mommy and Daddy

writing a food order on a pad of paper
    bringing out a child’s tea set
        playing waitress

I grew up as a child with a single mom and two sisters. We moved from one apartment to another for many various reasons, mainly financial. Money was extremely tight, so when a better offer came Mom would take it right then. We were just entering summer, but it felt like the hottest day of the year. My sisters and I were helping unpack our toys from the tattered grocery boxes that we found in the dumpster at the local A&P store. We were to put them away in our newly painted room as Mom hung our clothes neatly in the small closet in the corner. Supper was cooking, and then it was off to the bath the get ready for the morning. The first day of another new school was soon to come. Our hearts were beating. We were experiencing many feared emotions. Will the new kids accept us, or make fun of us? Will we make new friends? As I walked into the classroom my knees were shaking. The room was a blur, my eyes filled with tears. I could feel them hitting the floor while hearing the voice of my mother saying, “Everything will be alright.” I wanted to be with my sister. The desks were all fastened together in a single row. All of which were occupied by children. I did not know where to go. The teacher introduced me as the new student, and the children smiled.

new school
my sister a friend
forever

new apartment
the desks all fastened together
in a row

five degrees below
deer prints in the fresh snow

birdseed galore
bride dancing with her father

sun breaks the horizon
a soldier and sailors feet
keep rhythm on the pavement

mornings crisp air
sound of running feet
moving toward the horizon

brothers in arms
dim cool air
wakes the runners lungs

no words spoken
both men
fully understanding one another

before the world arises
two men
one road many miles

day's sun lowers
father and child
both with achy feet

scary thunderstorm
rainbow
little girl smiling

drifting in the waves
having a drink
laughing out loud

opening the closet
picking out a dress
sisters playing

hopping, skipping, jumping rope
all child’s play
wishing for a playmate

a day of thanksgiving
no laughter
no one eats

my hero
young and brave
as she cries at her grave

a dark cloud
the echo from the coffin
a bitter room

rain showers
may flowers
an empty park

a quiet night, he write his first haiku

deer are still
the wind is blowing
leaves

baby’s
bright eyes laughing
coughing loudly

in a Gold Coast lobby
a glass of wine with a friend

steamy summer
hear turning ice
back porch

long ago
friends together
summertime lemonade

breakfast casserole
late night talks
spoiled dog

YMCA
search and find
waist line

why did you do that
says the voice in my head

lips on my neck
slowly
falling in love

new truck
bird feeder
time to wash truck

new truck
garage cluttered
hail storm

sitting on couch
hot sticky day
cats shedding

acorns falling
September humidity
wedding clothes stick to us

scornful words
her eyes filled with tears
a mother's regrets

It’s January 2002. I present my husband with a handmade quilt as he packs his bag for his deployment to Germany. This was my first quilt and was all done in patriotic colors. It was my gift to wrap him in memories of home and us for the next eight months while he’s over seas. After the girls and I finished helping him pack, we leave the girls with my parents. Then my husband and I set out for the Armory. When we arrived at the Armory the parking lots was dark and no one else was around. We said our last good-byes and I headed home barely able to make out the road for my tears. It was such a lonely feeling knowing he was going to be gone for so long, I couldn’t picture where he was going, and I didn’t know when I would hear from him. All I knew was that I couldn’t pick up the phone to call him and everything was up to me but I had to be strong for our girls. When I arrived home, I went to get myself a drink. There in the refrigerator was a single red rose he had left for me. As I felt the velvet petals and smelt it sweet aroma I could feel his presence.

In all reality, it was our daughters, then nearly four and two years old, that were the strong ones. Those eight months were the hardest of my life and they helped me through. They were the reason I got out of bed each morning and their smiles along with tons of hugs brightened my days. I remember one day when we were playing in the back yard. I was making a video of the girls to send to my husband. The girls looked so beautiful with the sunlight in their hair. Then all the sudden my oldest daughter comes running up to me with a dandelion in hand. She said “ Mommy, look a wish (that is what she called dandelions).” I asked her what she was going to wish for. Sierra closed her eyes and made her wish as she blew the dandelion seeds across the yard ~ “I wish my Daddy could come home!”

About a month after my husband left, we received our first package. The girls and I gathered around the package to open it. We couldn’t get it ripped open fast enough. Inside each of the girls had been sent a teddy bear with a patriotic t-shirt. For me my husband had sent one of his brown t-shirts that had been sprayed with cologne. I hugged his shirt with my eyes shut and pretended that he was there with me. Many nights the girls and I fought over that t-shirt to sleep with.

on the front door
a service star flag
weathering the seasons

eight months in Germany
watching the hands of the clock
moving so slowly

mounds of gifts beside cake
the birthday girl asks
“Where’s my daddy?”

with party invitation in hand
the birthday girl asks
why daddy can’t come