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Items from my Childhood

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Items from my Childhood

First to go into the moving box is the faded, pastel doll
That she affectionately called Susan
And the soft blanket, the enshrouding comfort
That once used to shine a pale yellow

She tucks in a dozing cat
Morgan is stretched out in the sunlight
His belly lazily rising up and down
Seemingly smiling, he purrs as he is packed

The Barbie jeep will need some gas
And a giggling passenger
To experience the voyages
But it goes in anyway

The blue down comforter is carefully folded
For springtime picnics with all her favorite dolls
Unfortunately the dolls don’t fit
She will need new companions

She hopes her roommate won’t mind
Reruns of the Grease VCR
While eating sticky pounds of
Velveeta macaroni and cheese

The walkie-talkies will have to come
Or else she won’t be able to call her sister
From the next room
To tell her she wants some more candy

And the pogo stick
For bare-footed competitions with cousins
Bouncing buoyantly up and down
in the summer twilight

Pink jelly shoes and sidewalk chalk
Tucked into a corner
In case she wants to draw roads on the pavement
And trace their contours with her Yellow Razr scooter

And what if it gets cold?
She will surely need her red pie hat
And pink plastic sled
For building snow women and ice igloos

She packs the beanie baby bunny
And Spice Girls T-shirt to wear to bed
Remembering the summer day of her sixth birthday
A gift from her very best friend

And the purple trampoline so she can be bounced to the sky
When her brother’s friends
The big kids
Let her play too

Beaded purple and blue curtains will line the door of her dorm room
So she can tell when someone
Is going in or out
And sneaking through her stuff

And of course she will need strawberry milk
And some homemade chicken soup
In case she ever gets sick
Or just wants to stay home from school

Unfortunately her mother won’t fit
Neither will dad brother or sister
Or boyfriend
They have plans of their own

She will have to journey alone
With her box of memories
To remind her
Where home is.





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This article has 9 comments. Post your own now!

fancy Nancy said...
Feb. 5, 2010 at 11:11 pm
Great job, Kara!! I loved all the different references to different times of your life--it was most enjoyable--especially since all the memories seemed full of love! You're very blessed.
 
hollburgs95 said...
Feb. 5, 2010 at 7:54 pm
omg kara that was so good i felt like i was gonna cry!!
 
Tressytess said...
Feb. 5, 2010 at 11:04 am
Kara, You have no idea how proud I am after reading your poem. It is excellent.
Miss you and love you..
Aunt Tess
 
AuntieCindy said...
Feb. 4, 2010 at 2:09 pm
Wow! I just loved it. You made me get all misty eyed. You really drew me in and made me remember those feelings of moving on and of my own children growing up and moving on. Bravo, Kara!
 
AnnaFitz said...
Feb. 4, 2010 at 1:20 pm
Wow, what a wonderful piece, wonderful memories and terrific kid. This brought tears to my eyes, not only over how beautiful it was written and the memories she shares, but the fact she is old enough to be going away next year. Man, do I feel OLD! Love ya little cuz, all the best.
 
Dinajo said...
Feb. 4, 2010 at 9:43 am
What sweet memories of childhood. Beautifully written. It brought tears to my eyes. I do hope Kara will continue to write through out her college years & beyond. I loved it.
 
Nanny said...
Feb. 3, 2010 at 4:55 pm
Although I have read some of Kara's poems before, this is the most poignant. As her grandmother, I remember most of her memories, and Iam brought to tears.
 
lizgrace said...
Feb. 3, 2010 at 10:12 am
Tears instantly came as the poem concluded not out of sadness but joy for the memories and the beauty of life and growing up, especially when you realize when growing up is hard, even when you have the memories of childhood to comfort and stay with you
 
Susied Dee said...
Feb. 3, 2010 at 7:38 am
This is a touching piece. I can sense the writers mixed emotions about wanting to go off to college and to freedom and her hesitancy to let go of the safe, comforts of her childhood.
 
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