A Visit to St. Simons (written on 12/29/2023 at 8:30 p.m)

We are visiting my childhood home today – St. Simons Island, Georgia, on the 8-year anniversary of my mother’s death from Parkinson’s Disease. Although the family house where we grew up has long since been leveled and rebuilt, so much of the 1970s decade is still ever present here on the island. 

When I was young here, the Tastee-Freez was the place we’d go on our bicycles to get ice cream and hot dogs. It has since been a Dairy Queen and now a Frosty’s, but the original poster is still hanging by the door. 

I also love my brother’s dishes, which were our family dishes in the 1970s. This morning, I used a smaller coffee cup and a saucer than I would normally use, just to eat from these dishes. The retro vibe is strong on the olive green pattern. 

It’s a welcome feeling to walk back through the decades. As we go through years of memorabilia with our dad, my brother and I are reliving memories and sharing the stories. Even though the annual “family meeting” is sometimes uncomfortable with the details of how families move forward after losing a loved one, it’s also filled with plenty of time around the table, enjoying great food and laughing. 

As we move into a new year, laughter is a word that I’ve considered as my One Little Word for 2024. It’s surely something that improves my whole outlook! 

We’re missing Mom today, but we know she is close. As my brother and I were driving this morning, a hawk flew directly over us – – a sure signal that all is well in Heaven. 

#VerseLove April 14 – with Margaret Simon

Today’s host for Day 14 of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Margaret Simon of Louisiana, who invites us to write free verse poetry. I had a burst of brightness this week, so I’m capturing that moment this morning.

Disco Fever

I opened my eyes
to a disco joint
missing the music 
clearly needing The Bee Gees
or Yvonne Elliman 
or the greatest ever: Abba

hundreds of tiny sunbeams
scattering light rays
in all directions
the kinds of rays
I could reach out and touch, 
measure with a ruler 
their armlengths’ reach
changing refractions

wondering how I would get home
in this overpowering light
too much, really
so much it hurt 

I squinted, tilted my face up 
propped my head on the backrest
closed my eyes
and sat silently
thinking, pondering

“Do you have sunglasses?” 
a voice asked

I do

“You’re gonna need ‘em,” she assured me. “I have some if you can’t find yours.” 

I reached in, fumbled blindly 
through my backpack
fingers searching feverishly

wallet
keys
chapstick
Aleve
Kleenex

Sunglasses! 

I put on these disco glasses,
ready to face the music

when I stepped out 
into the bright sunlight
from the darkness 
of the eye doctor’s office, 
eyes dilated from the exam, 
I had only two things on my mind:
John Travolta and a ride home