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Posts Tagged ‘memory’

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

Every summer I look forward to Kate Messner’s Teachers Write virtual writing camp. The first week is this week. Kate invites us to go outside and reflect on a time when we felt fully whole. I went outside and ended up weeding a flower bed. It wasn’t too hot, and for a minute, it wasn’t raining. I had a “clunker” line from Linda Mitchell to work with. “August was long of light.” There was a time when we didn’t start school in August, and it felt like summer would go on and on.

Mississippi Heat Wave

August was long of light
in a Mississippi heat wave that summer of ‘72.
On the path to Purple Creek,
my flip-flops kept the stickers away
and mosquitos preferred Missy’s freckle-juice.
Covered in Off and Coppertone, we’d hold hands
to cross the waterfall, tip-toe trickle over a concrete slab.
On the other side was an endless pine forest. We’d walk
the path of dirt bikes, side-stepping ruts in the muddy red clay.
Avoiding under-the-bridge where the smoking kids hung out,
we’d wander to the stables, pick out a favorite horse, pretend they were ours.
Endless summer days
stretched out like a Gulf Coast beach
burned our tender noses,
streaked our blonde hair,
became a backdrop to childhood memories.

Margaret Simon, draft
Pine forest in Mississippi, photo by Margaret Simon

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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.

Jasmine tea takes me back
to our honeymoon in San Francisco
when I was falling in love with everything…
The Japanese Tea Garden
surrounded by green, blooming with
wisteria, iris, and maple blossoms.
We sampled green tea, all flavors;
jasmine was my favorite.
We walked hand in hand,
called each other Mr. and Mrs.,
and felt the hope of a new path before us.

Now in this time of quarantine,
someone said tea is good for you.
Who cares if it’s a hoax. I’ve heated the water,
dropped in a filtered circle of jasmine tea,
squeezed lemon from our backyard lemon tree,

and sip the taste of San Francisco
trying hard to remember
that love is enough.

Margaret Simon, draft
Photo by Olenka Sergienko from Pexels

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