As the minutes of your own life open and fall, catch them in poems.”
-Kim Addonizio & Dorianne Laux, The Poet’s Companion
When I first started my blog, part of my wordpress profile read “I’m just trying to find that moment of white, protective light in each day,” or something like that. I can’t find the exact phrase now but I clearly remember writing this while I was still pregnant with casey. I was one of those women who loved being pregnant; totally in tune with my body and the growing baby, I was completely zenned, out on cloud nine. During my, almost daily, prenatal yoga practice I experienced moments when I distinctly felt myself surrounded by a protective white light, positive energy radiating outward from my body. That sounds a bit queer, writing it now, but at the time this feeling was very strong, very real.
These days, that light is harder to find but I still search for it. I find it in small moments through out the day, fractions of a second when our lives become illuminated: The look on Casey’s face the first time we ran through the sprinkler together, glancing across the room and seeing Alex reading a book to Casey, standing in the shower when my mind suddenly stumbles across an answer to a problem I’ve been mulling over and in the rare moment when Casey is still and simply wants to sit with me to watch the birds out the window. I catalogue these moments with written souvenirs- short verses that remind me of these heartbeats of light.
From time to time you may see posts, titled only with a date, that contain these souvenirs. I’ve published one such post here, but wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to make it a part of The Casey Chronicle until these small moments kept opening themselves to me, inspiring me to catch them with words as they fell. They may not always make a ton of sense but taken together these compositions form a written record of that date and the moments of light that I found in it.
On a Hot Day
Barefoot and muddy
wearing jeans that are waterlogged to his knees,
he holds out the garden hose, begging me to reconsider.
Out The Window
Two doves and a bunny
together make three
to clean up the aftermath
of the chipmunks jubilee.
The Time of Fireflies
The time of fireflies is upon us.
Tonight, just one, but tomorrow
if brief flickers of brilliance
fill the sultry hour of evening,
that hour of delicate shadow fusion,
Will you laugh or try
to catch one like you tried
to catch the rain?