Tag Archives: love

On Motherhood

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What do you wish someone had told you before you had kids?

All the planning in the world cannot prepare you for becoming a mother. Even if you received too much advice from other moms while you were pregnant, you only realize this fact after you give birth—not a moment prior.

You will take pictures and videos—lots of them. From hearing the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of your baby’s heartbeat to grasping ultrasound pics in hand to your husband’s photo capture of you with a tear streamed face holding your precious baby in your arms for the first time to waving good-bye at the bus stop while your stomach lurches to your daughter going to her first middle school dance to talking about the birds and bees to waking up one day and your son is grown-up, you will capture every important moment with a snapshot and/or video clip—and then some.

Real parenting is not your friends’ Facebook shares. Facebook is not the real world. Seeing highlights of your friends’ exaggerated posts, whether it’s viewing pictures of their little ones who are reading novels by the age of 3, potty trained by age 2 using the M&M’s method (it does work sometimes), or playing concertos at age 4, isn’t necessarily reality—even though the photos may be cute. Reality is:  little ones will become preteens, next teens, and then they will go off to live their own lives. Your heart may feel like breaking but you will be proud—so proud. Welcome to the real world and celebrate every moment.

You will always be a mother. This reality will never change no matter how large your son’s shoes are or how your daughter towers over you in heels or if your kids become chefs, police officers, teachers, or parents themselves or if they adorn their bodies with tattoos or piercings or if they grow their hair out and join rock bands—whatever. After the umbilical cord is cut, you are forever mom. If you are lucky, you will become grandmom at some point. Love will never be in short supply.

You won’t ever be the same—never ever. From the moment you find out that you are carrying a life inside you, the ground will careen under you, you may see stars, and you will free fall into a love that no life alert call could rescue you from. You wouldn’t want to be rescued. You fall hard and thank God every day for it.

You are a mother. Imperfect at best yet filled with love so consuming that its presence is like breathing. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

To my mom, I know now–and I appreciate everything you are to me. You are the best. To my beautiful children, you will always be mine. I adore you.

~Pamela

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Growing

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Where did the time go?

From feet
little that pitter
patted to shoes that
gape and click.

From wake-ups
and monsters to scare to
looking up for hugs
bent down.

Where did the time go?

From loving huge
and huger still
cords fraying and
knowing well of the
hopes and dreams
ballooning.

Where did the time go?

Life’s shorter and heart’s
bigger to hold memories
warm from the sunshine
of your smiles

~Pamela

Words

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You can say anything you want, yessir, but it’s the words that sing, they soar and descend . . . I bow to them . . . I love them, I cling to them, I run them down, I bite into them, I melt them down . . . I love words so much . . . The unexpected ones . . . The ones I wait for greedily or stalk until, suddenly, they drop . . . Vowels I love . . . They glitter like colored stones, they leap like silver fish, they are foam, thread, metal, dew . . . I run after certain words . . . They are so beautiful that I want to fit them all into my poem . . . I catch them in midflight, as they buzz past, I trap them, clean them, peel them, I set myself in front of the dish, they have a crystalline texture to me, vibrant, ivory, vegetable, oily, like fruit, like algae, like agates, like olives . . . And I stir them, I shake them, I drink them, I gulp them down, I mash them, I garnish them, I let them go . . . I leave them in my poem like stalactites, like slivers of polished wood, like coals, pickings from a shipwreck, gifts from the waves . . . Everything exists in the word . . .From Memoirs by Pablo Neruda (NY: Penguin, 1974), p. 53.

J & G

Dear J and G,

Love is many things. It never fails. Missing you and thinking of you. My love will never quit. Up to heaven and back.

xoxoxo

All In

Google Image

she was all
in no cheating
no folding
she had to play
her hand win
or lose life was a
series of five cards
kings and deuces
she refused to quit
because there was
no repeat royal
flushes or full
houses she picked
up her cards and
waited for the flop
she was all
in no cheating
no folding

© Pamela Rossow

Orion in Your Eyes


You came with Orion in
your eyes, sweeping me
into a brightly lit nebula.
My tears sprinkled among
your atmosphere, birthing
stars.

You came with warm breath,
exhaling oxidants. I, as fuel,
inhaled you, flaring heat and a
chain of exothermic reactions
CH4 + 2 O2 → CO2 + 2 H2O
+ energy.

You came with passion in
your lips, lingering, causing my skin to smolder while exciting electrons in a pure white frenzy of
eros.

Pamela A. Rossow

 

Source


Google Photograph

washing over me
and flooding my being a
welcomed liquid embrace
a cocoon enveloping my
eyes nose ears a blurring of
senses floating me crosscurrent
from the estuary to that spot of
freckled sunlight glinting off
limpid waters where leafy canopies
in mirrored reflections tease rippling
the place where You I first sprung

© Pamela Rossow

La famiglia è la patria del cuore

photo by dreamstime

Last night, I heard an often repeated Italian expression that, because of recent circumstances, means even more to me than it did four days ago. La famiglia è la patria del cuore or your family is the homeland of your heart. 

We, Americans, are familiar with the expression home is where the heart is. Basically, the same sentiment. No matter where we go or how many miles (or emotions) separate us or how long we are away or whether we nag, smile, bicker, or hug, la famiglia è la patria del cuore. Simple. 

I know how lucky I am to be a thread in this handcrafted fabric.  I am grateful beyond words that I have a dad and mom who have always loved me, protected me, wanted the best for me. That I have a brother who, no matter how little time we get to spend alone together, will always be my best friend. That, even when my children and I are apart, their hearts are safe within my heart. La famiglia è la patria del cuore. 

It’s how my ancestors lived, breathed, prayed, loved, ate, drank, slept. It’s the fundamental stitches my grandparents sewed that now entwine my heart with each of my family members’ hearts. La famiglia è la patria del cuore. It’s the sometimes imperfect loops that still include everything and everyone I am tied to. It’s my roots, my core, my center. La famiglia è la patria del cuore.

glittering soot on her eyelashes

I’m excited to introduce a blogger friend whose poetry I have admired for some time.  She agreed to guest post and share an original poem from her collection.  She is an talented artist who weaves beautiful imagery and creativity into her poetry.  She writes about relationships, nature,  love, lost loves, and the bottom line?  She moves me!  Check out her site at glittering soot on her eyelashes and show her some love!

 

 

 

 

 

 

i flow in gold rivulets
alike a slowly setting sun,
skin tingling, lost in blistering air
of the never tomorrows and never agains.
we gulp it down,
unwillingly,
laughing,
saline waters still trapped in alveoli
aftertaste of sea spray on the lips
and
i remember all that you were
and all that you weren’t.

 

 © glittering soot on her eyelashes

 

we never really lose lost loves.
the moral of the story? cut the thread you torture yourself with every once and again or sleep soundly knowing you managed to love again.


The “c” Word

So many people use it every day. It’s one of the most hated words (probably THE most despised word). Yet, we hear it over and over again.

It’s not until it’s used to describe what’s happening to OUR friends, OUR grandparents, OUR selves, OUR moms, OUR brothers, OUR sisters, OUR children, OUR dads, OUR aunts, OUR uncles, OUR loved ones that the word slams us face down onto the asphalt and tries to drag us backwards. But to positive test results, we say, “sCrew you!”

Those of us who either receive The Call or hear about The Call (later when our loved ones tell us about it) encounter the initial effects of “c.” During those moments, “c” seems to have us pinned. We cry. We rant. We get pissed off. We crumple.

Then, we maneuver out of its grip. We stand up. Put on the gloves. Step into the centers of the rings. We don’t wait for the first punches. We throw them. We fight, hard. We love, fiercely. We feel, deeply. We live with awareness. Thankfully, there’s no “c” in H-O-P-E. Just a whole lot of positive energy and prayers.

(Dad got The Call today)