I spent Saturday doing errands and Sunday washing curtains at my mother's house.
It took five hours to wash three sets of curtains -- no, not just to wash them ... they of course had to be taken down, shaken out, then washed, dried, and put back up. One very large set had to be ironed. There was a lot of up-ing and down-ing on the ladder and stairs. There was moving of furniture, and vacuuming of crevices and washing of trim. There was chatting with Mom and trying not to knock over plants or put the curtain rods through the TV. There was running out for groceries and back to my house to get cleaning rags. (My mom had no rags in the house - imagine that, being so up to date with sorting and decluttering that there was nothing to tear up for rags!) Thank goodness we live so near each other.
So I am pooped. I had a nap when I came home, woke up a hundred years later, judging from how much older my body felt, and realized -- Poetry Monday!! No post written!!
Several aborted Google searches later, during which I re-visited poems I had studied in high school but discarded because they didn't spark my imagination at the moment, I changed directions and decided to write my own poem after all. After more labour than the result would appear to have required, I offer the following:
Some Debts Cannot Be Repaid, But We Can Try
My knees are creaky
There's an ache in my back
It hurts to walk
And that's a fact.
But helping a mom
Who's always helped me
Is worth every ounce
Of disability.
*****
How did you spend your weekend? Have you ever helped someone else clean house while your own needs it more? What do you think about chocolate as a means of treating muscle aches and pains? Did you write a poem in anticipation of Poetry Monday?
Don't forget to visit Diane HERE and Delores HERE to see what they've been up to, poetry-wise. And if you'd like to join in, leave your poem in the comments of any of our blogs, or on your own blog (leave us a link in the comments so we can find you.)
Meanwhile, Monday is here, and I am taking my cue from this kitty cat:
I hope you all have a good week :)
O_Jenny, tired and dutiful daughter helping her mom, I DID include a poem in a clip --recited by my robot, Hoots-- in today's Sunday Sermon at "Trainride..." which may qualify for Poetry Monday. Hope you enjoy it. Best wishes!
ReplyDelete"Hoots on Dogs and Humans" is wonderful, as is Hoots himself - thank you, Geo.!
DeleteFor anyone who'd like to check out Hoots and his oratory, go here: http://trainrideoftheenigmas.blogspot.ca/2017/05/sunday-sermon-and-hoots.html
I love your heartfelt poem - and the attitude which inspired it.
ReplyDeleteI hope that while wearing that wonderous hat you can leave a trail of love and laughter in the water. Or blood when and if it seems appropriate.
And yes, I have cleaned my mother's house when my own was begging for the same.
I think I need a hat just like that one :)
DeleteI've always been better at doing other peoples' housework than my own. There's something not right about that!
i love you for your captivating way of writing and for the decision you made to write your own mind,it is a genuine expression with dedication and simplicity ,this one grabs the heart ,touch the heart and push to think over these few simple yet too deep thoughts in your poetry.Wonderful!!!
ReplyDeletei imagined your uping and downing while doing all the curtains pull off ,wash and iron and then put them back ,so much hard work for you and it shows how amazing human being you are and how wonderful and loving daughter .your mom is lucky indeed .
I remember going regularly with my mother to my grandfather's home (her father) in his later years and seeing her clean his house. She set a good example for me.
DeleteI have to say one of the big benefits of my mum being in a Nursing home is me having far less chores to do for her! Well apart from visiting her, which is often quite hard, but I don't miss doing her food shop every week and answering the phone 16 times a day!
ReplyDeleteVisiting can be a chore even when you have a good relationship, I find. I'm glad you are getting a break from the other things, though!
DeleteCurtains are next on the list. Fortunately only once or twice a year.
ReplyDeleteYour standards are higher than mine have been the last few years, Joanne! You are training up your granddaughter right.
DeleteHallo Jenny, You have had a busy weekend. At least it's done and made your mother happy.
ReplyDeleteShort poems sometimes get the message over quite well.
Anyway, here is the poem I promised. I came across it in a quarterly magazine called This England. There was a photograph with the poem of a smiling cheerful tramp(hobo) and he looked so happy and content.
The Millionaire
I've written my name on the river,
I've put my name on the sea,
My name is on the summer skies,
They all belong to me.
I've written my name on the violets,
That grow in their corner fair,
And wherever Nature has planted peace,
My name is written there.
As far as the eye can travel
From where I stand in the sun,
I've put my name on the things I see
And I own them, every one!
My name is on the singing birds
That mate when Spring is new;
But I won't be selfish with all these things,
I'll share them, friend, with you.
There is no deed to the river
There is no lock to the sea;
Not all the power in all the world
Can take their joy from me!
There is no fence round the heavens,
No vault holds the sunset's gold;
The earth is mine and the sky is mine
Till all the suns grow old.
The stars are my thousand jewels,
And life is my bread and wine,
And all that I see was made for me
And all that I love is mine.
Anon
I love this poem. Hope you enjoyed it and that it was worth waiting for.
Joan (Wales)
Ah, lovely! I enjoyed it very much - so true and well worth remembering how lucky we are to have all those things with no strings attached. Thank you for joining in today, Joan.
DeleteThat was a poem from the heart (or maybe the joints lol) . I love it. The best poems are those we can relate to and man do I relate. Yes, I have cleaned and done kitchen work for someone else when my own needed to be done. A few years back after Mom passed away and Dad was living on his own we spent one day every weekend doing just that. Then rushed back home to get our own done before Monday morning and work reared its ugly head.
ReplyDeleteShark kitty is a cutie.
That would be a busy time, and tiring. I remember my mother cleaning and cooking for my grandfather (her dad) so I had a good role model. As I suspect you did.
DeleteI LOVE it! Beautifully said. Sharing . . .
ReplyDeleteThank you, Diane! Short & sweet, right? hah!
DeleteChocolate is the best treatment for everything that's wrong.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie
Oh, thank you! I thought no one was going to back me up on that :)
DeleteSince it's Memorial Day here, or "barbecues for amnesiacs day" as some like to call it, the Rude Pundit has a poem up by a female former combat medic who served in Iraq. It's kind of brutal, but she makes her point with poetic eloquence:
ReplyDeletehttp://rudepundit.blogspot.com/2017/05/a-poem-for-memorial-day.html
Bless you for supporting your mother. As one who has sometimes needed support (after my stroke, and before I was mobile enough to do for myself) I have a special kind of admiration for the people on the other side of that equation.
-Doug in Oakland
That's an excellent poetic comment on war and its costs. I don't know how anyone is ever able to live a normal life after combat - I'm only surprised there aren't more with PTSD.
DeleteAs for support, I think it's far easier to give it than be in a position to need it. My heart breaks for my mother. Her cognitive ability isn't coming back the way I thought it would, or hoped it would.
I like your poem. It says it as it is. I counted birds on the weekend and I'm tired and sore from walking.
ReplyDeleteSo many things that can ache!! I keep telling myself it's good exercise - which your walking certainly is, too.
DeleteODE TO JENNY
ReplyDeleteThere once was a woman called Jenny
Who sold kisses for only a penny
When asked how she'd done
By her long suffering mum
She admitted she hadn't sold any.
Sometimes LOL is the only possible response, and this is one of those times. LOL!
DeleteI love your poem. Funny...and sweet. That's how I feel about my mom. And my creaky knees and aching back :)
ReplyDeletePhysical labour didn't make me feel like this when I was a young 'un!
DeleteSounds that you had a very hard time. You have beautiful described about your pains:)
ReplyDeleteThank you! And thanks for stopping by :)
DeleteYour poetry continues to impress me. What donkey or mule or any equine for that matter doesn't like a good roll in the sand?
ReplyDeleteYou are easily impressed :)
DeleteI thought that donkey was sleeping!
You are such a good daughter! I am guilty of being not patient enough with my mom. I need to follow your example.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Nicky, but it's not like that all the time. She has a stubborn streak a mile wide (which I do, too) and it can make for difficult days now that she is better physically but not functioning as well mentally ...
DeleteWow, no wonder you're exhausted! Hope your aches and pains are easing off now.
ReplyDeleteIt is a drop in the bucket compared to moving as many times as you and your husband have the last while! Most moves are sprints; yours has been a marathon!
Delete