Still ringing in my ears
Still ringing in my ears
The sometimes happy voices
of sisters playing make-believe
Shrieking across the spacious lawn
Beside the river flowing gently
toward a big turn just ahead and
to the right around the corner
Last night I wept for the past
Having lived my life thinking
Somehow we could redeem it
Until we couldn’t not for want
Of trying but for turns in rivers
That ended just around corners
Now hidden from our eyes
The next generation is upon us
Their childhood and teenage voices
Still ringing in our ears
The happy the sad the distressed
The elated and the dreamers
Small pieces of us already interwoven
Riding the current to the next corner
I like intense. Then again, sometimes I’ve had my fill, even though I can’t stop the flowing river. The last several weeks have been intense. Right now I’m focused on taking care of my daily needs, and listening to myself early in the morning. What can I do today to stay in touch with myself and with some of my family members?
My older generation is moving on. How do I support generations coming after me? I’m not looking for great big creative things. I want to practice little things that matter. The kinds of things that helped me when I was still an introverted dreamer. On second thought, I’m still an introverted dreamer! And proud of it.
Thanks to D for this photo, taken in Summer 2010 following the memorial service for my father. This is the front yard bordering the river as it looked in 2010. My family lived here, in a rural community near Savannah, Georgia, in the 1950s.
Thanks for visiting and reading,
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 January 2020
Photo taken by DAFraser, Summer 2010
Such a beautiful setting in the photo!
And I can relate to your poem.
As a child my parents drove us through Savannah many times during commutes from Bristol Pa to Melbourne Florida to visit grandparents. The years would have been 1954 through 1962. Memories of traversing the bridge into the city continue to be ingrained into my being along with visions of the Spanish moss and distinct odor of the marshes and swamps. I cherish those memories as parents and grandparents are long since gone but siblings still exchange feelings of those long Christmas and Easter drives to and fro to keep family connected. Thank you for stirring the valued memories.
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Thanks, Dave. I love your memories of driving through Savannah. I also loved coming over the bridge and seeing the city spread out ‘down there.’ No interstate highways back then. Which, to be honest, I enjoyed more than I enjoy traveling on interstate highways. And a great big yes to the strange smells of Spanish moss, marshes and swamps. I’d also add the smell of pine leaves lying on the ground. I think the high humidity, plus no air conditioning, added to outdoor odors of all kinds, including the occasional skunk under the house! 🙂