Hey, Little Girl

Here is a poem I wrote to my little granddaughter, who is so very near and dear to my heart, along with a selection of my favourite photos of her over the years.

 

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Hey little girl, what tender dreams do you dream?
You are this world’s destiny yet unseen
We look to you to see a new truth revealed
While you play and you laugh and invent new games
And your tears make our hearts melt and break
But the lessons you are learning
They will help you move on
They’ll help you become strong
For the passions that you set your sights upon

 

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Hey little girl, what brave new songs will you sing
When to your childhood you can no longer cling?
But please remember, to your family
You are a gift and a blessing that burst into our lives
And your smile makes our hearts fill with pride
As you dance through the years ahead
Through our lives and beyond
We’ll always cheer you on
Down that path where you can’t take us along

Hey little girl, what tender dreams do you dream?

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The Little Things

You always hear people say that we shouldn’t love the material things in life, and usually I am inclined to agree. However, in one particular area of my life I must beg to differ.¬† Sometimes we have certain items that are so very precious to us because they keep our memories bright.

My mother is now in the late stages of Alzheimer’s disease. She has changed so much in the past few years, from a vibrant, independent and beautiful woman, into a person who needs constant care. She can still smile in recognition at me, but can no longer carry on a conversation of any sort. We are losing her, bit by bit, with every visit and every passing day. This is probably why I hold on so tightly to a few items that came from her.

As I write this, I am wearing a pair of wool slippers that my mother knitted for me. They are teal blue and white with little bows sewn on the top. I found them a couple of months ago when I was sorting out some storage items, and even though they are a little tight, which was the reason I had put them away in the first place, I’ve worn them ever since, stretching them so they would fit. Just knowing that she had made them for me gives me comfort.

While I was looking for Christmas baking inspiration a few weeks ago, I came across a recipe for cherry cake in my collection, that was written in Mom’s elegant handwriting. I remembered her making that recipe many times over the years. My heart ached with loss as I read it, but I knew I had to use it. Now that Christmas is behind us for another year, I still have some of that cake left, and I savour every bite.

And on my right hand, I am wearing my mother’s wedding band. It had been sitting in a little box in my dresser drawer for months, waiting until the day for it to go on her finger for the last time. So for now I am wearing it, because it makes me feel closer to her, and to Dad as well.

So please don’t try to tell me that things aren’t important. Sometimes it’s the little things that we need to hold onto, the touchstones for our priceless memories. Sometimes it is all we have.