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Archive for the ‘Gratitude’ Category

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

“Did you kiss?” Seven-year old Leo asked when I said we went dancing.

“No, we danced.”

“But did you kiss?”

“Not while we were dancing, but we can now.” Jeff walked over to me and kissed me.

Leo stopped asking.

What does he know of love? A long love?

On Monday, my daughter asked me to babysit Leo and Stella because they were not feeling well. When I arrived, Leo was set up on the sofa with a blanket, a stuffie, and a bucket, but it wasn’t long until they both perked up and were ready to craft Valentines.

Leo wrote (unprompted by me) in his journal:

Leo’s journal page

Their energy increased, so we took the bikes out to the park nearby. I wrote this poem for Laura Shovan’s February project. Our theme this year is mysteries and the topic was secrets. I decided to ask Leo if he had any secrets.

True story

I asked him if he had a secret
while he shimmied down the fireman’s pole.
I love Abby he said.
Does she know?
I helped him write the Valentine
and tuck it in an envelope.
When his mother saw it, she said “How sweet! I’ll put it in the mail.”
Who is Abby?
I imagined a girl on the school playground running from my grandson’s chase.
Oh, don’t be silly.
He loves Abby, the dog.

Margaret Simon, draft

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The gathering of Spiritual Thursday posts can be found with Bob here.

What song is playing in your head today? I find if I take a minute to sit in silence, there is always a song playing in my mind. I wonder if this is true for everyone.

When I check the song in my head, I can usually feel its connection to my attitude. I’ve been with my grandson for a few days, and he has favorites from my repertoire. When he brushes his teeth, I have to sing the Raffi song, “When you wake up in the morning and it’s quarter to one. You think you’ll have a little fun, you brush your teeth, Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch.” When I tuck him into bed, I sing the lullaby “Tell me why.”

I love these songs, but my ear worm this morning comes from the hymns I sang in the choir loft on Sunday.

“Blest are They”

“Rejoice and be glad!

Blessed are you!
Holy are you.

Rejoice and be glad,
yours is the kingdom of God.”

https://youtu.be/chqY9S1Lm2w?si=RQgDRiA6qkZdFlCP

A simple tune, a sacred message, not bad for a wake up call in the morning.

What songs become the background playlist for your life? Are they joyful?

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

I’m sitting at my daughter’s desk in New Orleans. She is on a work trip, and I’ve gotten her son Thomas to school. He’s in kindergarten. Our morning went so smoothly that I am questioning myself. I have rechecked her list, and we did everything. Nevertheless I’m worried.

Thomas has been struggling lately. The classroom environment overwhelms him, and he has meltdowns. My daughter is doing all the things. I am really proud of the way she is taking charge of the situation and working hard toward a solution. As an educator, though, I wish I could be a fly on the wall in his classroom to see the whole picture. As a grandparent, all I want in the world is for him to be happy.

At my daughter’s desk this morning, I read Kim Johnson’s SOL post about falling in love with ordinary things. Thanks, Kim, for the nudge to write a poem inspired by Georgia Heard’s February newsletter.

I’m sitting at my daughter’s work desk
falling in love with the winter slant
of sunlight
and the small pink framed photo of her
as a wild child, holding Pongo, the rat terrier.

Her smile is wide and open,
blonde hair flustered by the wind.
Is there a stain of chocolate on her chin?

Her wide smile,
that joie de vivre, is living
in her six-year old son today.

Margaret Simon, draft

Katherine with Pongo

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Last week when I wrote about my one little word for 2026, I was teetering between sacred and simplicity, and someone wrote in the comments “sacred simplicity”. Of course!

Often the two walk hand in hand, sacred and simplicity.

On Sunday we said goodbye to our church choir director. Leon has been with us for more than 12 years. This past year he decided to get confirmed into the Episcopal church. I thought that meant he would stay; however, a chance to travel to California for 6 months changed his life trajectory. Sunday was his last Sunday as our director. I shed many tears between hymns and our anthem, trying to stay strong when it mattered.

After the closing hymn, our priest asked Leon to come down from the loft. She directed us to gather around him for a blessing, each placing a hand on him or on someone near him. It was a truly magical moment of grace, shared community, and love.

A circle of sacred simplicity to bless Leon.

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

A few months ago, I wrote a post “For the trees” about a nearby empty lot that was sold, and the new owners took out a few of the trees. Well, now, they’ve completely blocked the space as they build their new house.

This weekend when we had the grandkids, I accepted an invitation from a neighbor to walk to her grove of oak trees. She lives on the highway, but as long as we stayed in the yards along the way, I felt it was safe to walk over.

Leo and Alden next to the oldest oak in New Iberia, The Sylvia Oak, named for Beanie’s aunt who once lived on the property.

Her grove became a new forest of wonder. Leo climbed and explored. Along with my neighbor’s 5 year old grandson Alden, he found an old dock with fishing nets tethered to it. The boys tossed those nets in and drug them out over and over again until Alden pointed out that the fish might be getting wise to them because the nets were moving.

Throwing seed to the ducks on the bayou.

Miss Beanie brought out some bird seed for Stella to spread along the bayou banks. A flock of ducks came by, but the boys quickly frightened them by throwing sticks into the water.

Albert (my doodle-dog) and I enjoyed watching their antics and adventures. Every once in a while, a gasp caught in my throat as I considered the dangers. Luckily all was well and they came home safely with only a little bleeding.

Beanie’s yard along the bayou holds the oldest tree in New Iberia. She told the kids it was 450 years old. She showed them how it was struck by lightning and had been held together by thick wires. Those wires have now become embedded into the tree. The kids especially liked her tale about the elephant skin of the tree. “See the elephant’s eye and its trunk?”

Tree climbing!

The new forest is a place we will visit again and again. I am grateful to Beanie for offering the space for us to explore.

Leo’s notebook writing about our adventures.

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The Earth Snake by Leo LeBlanc

Yesterday was a full day of being Mamére with Leo, 7, and Stella, 5. We went on a walk in our neighborhood. There is a vacant lot where a new house will be built soon. They had done some dirt work, so there was a mountain of dirt. In the mud, Albert, my dog, had sniffed out a small snake, thankfully dead.

Being Mamére, I allowed Leo to carry the snake home. He gave it a bath and wanted to show everyone. When I brought them home, he opened his gift from my sister-in-law who came with me specifically to see the kids open their gifts from her.

He opened a huge set of paint markers and a new art tablet and immediately drew this illustration. He also wrote this story.

Leo’s writing, age 7 (1st grade)

Of course, he made this writer grandmother proud. Today, I am pulling from his writing a small poem. The elfchen form includes 1 word topic, 2 words, what topic does, 3 words, where or how, 4 words, what do you mean, and 1 word, outcome.

Snake
Lay dead
dug from earth
a young boy’s buried
treasure

Margaret Simon, draft

Please join me today in writing a small ekphrastic poem. Have a wonderful holiday! Thanks for being a dedicated reader and writer.

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Fellow Inkling Linda Mitchell has the round up today at A Word Edgewise.

Winter Hope
Winter has come
with rain upon rain.
Mud bank creeps
as bayou sneaks
higher and higher
with each downpour.

Water, water, water
is all we hear until a cloud white
egret steps softly into view.

Look! Look!
We call the toddlers to the window.

They see with new eyes of wonder.

I see with new eyes of wonder.
See! See!

Margaret Simon, draft

Great white egret on Bayou Teche, photo by Margaret Simon

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Last week in Denver I took pictures of murals. They were everywhere. Today for this photo I chose this beauty.

Georgia Heard offers a monthly prompt calendar. Today’s prompt is to write 5 small things you are grateful for. After a very full Thanksgiving weekend, I am enjoying the silence of this cold morning.

  1. Morning quiet
  2. Warm poodle on my lap
  3. Fog on the bayou
  4. Sleep
  5. Writing

In gratitude, I offer this small poem. Please consider writing your own small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.

In her silent reverie,
she doesn’t notice
the squirrel on the ground
lifting a tiny petal
she dropped,
joining her in gratitude.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

The December Open Write at Ethical ELA was hosted by Mo Daley. She introduced me to a new poem form that was really fun to write, a kenning. A kenning uses two word phrases to describe someone or something. Mo asked us to think of gratitude at this time of year. Her post (with lots of fun response poems) is here.

The kenning is supposed to be a riddle, so the title should not give away the topic. But I am giving it away with the title of my post as well as a photo of the cutest baby ever. Sam’s sister has nicknamed him “Lammy” which is short for “Sammy-Lamby-Ding-Dong.”

Number 5 Caboose

He’s a
toothless grinner
sniff-snorter
milk-spitter
diaper-wetter
perfume magnet
pumpkin-carrot
Lambi-lambi
Ding-Dong
cuddle-coaxing
daytime napping
love absorbing
new cousin

Sam, 4 months.

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

This one is dedicated to my father, who would be 92 today. He died at 88 on 4/22/22. He loved double numbers. He was born on 11/11/33 before this day became Veterans Day, but he loved that his birthday became such an important holiday. He was proud to be a veteran, but more than that, he was proud of his two older brothers who fought in WWII and Vietnam. My father never had to go into war.

I imagine him today, not in the deathbed (that memory lasted too long in my brain), but as he would sit in his chair every morning and read the paper, exclaiming every few minutes or so about some injustice that he would read aloud to my mother. He loved to hate politics.

My husband Jeff is like him in this. Jeff reads news on a tablet and laughs out loud until I ask him what’s so funny. He enjoys modern day memes and comics that play on human idiosyncrasies. He also reads aloud other news that he feels may interest me. “You may be interested to know…”

I have my father with me always in his artwork. He was a black and white pointillist artist. I look at his drawings and swoon at the idea that his fingers touched each dot on the paper.

Heron, pen and ink pointillism by John Gibson.

There is a progress/pattern to grief. At first, it was soul gripping and traumatic. Now that Mom is gone, too, I feel more at peace and filled with a kind of longing for them that is nostalgic. Dad in his chair reading the news. Mom with her coffee (always black) doing a crossword.

Today on Dad’s birthday and Veterans Day, I am warm and happy that I had a loving home.

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