The Small Things
I clean the stove with my mother
We weed the garden together
I feel every ache
as I bend and stoop
like she used to
Her things speak for her
in silent voice
A bread knife
A tulip print
The porcelain cup
that I took from her house
before it was emptied and sold
Not only because the word ‘Mother’
is printed on the side
but because we both
liked to hold a delicate handle
and sip from a thin lip
She reminds me to sweep my kitchen floor
She liked to show how much dirt
she could fill the dustpan with
as if making the world a better place
Her unsteady gait
and unwavering determination
have taught me how to feel my way
across a room
in the dark of night
I catch myself in the mirror
and remember her
and when I come across a letter
It doesn’t matter what she wrote
Her handwriting has outlived her
It carries the evidence of her life
like a thumbprint impressed on me
A nudge, a comfort, a lost love note
A clue not meant for solving
____Colleen Redman / Poets United
June 23rd, 2017 3:20 pm
“She liked to show how much dirt
she could collect in the dustpan
as if making the world a better place”
Just how I feel when I sweep my kitchen floor.
June 23rd, 2017 6:52 pm
A mother for a mentor in housekeeping! Nothing better than that, Colleen.
Hank
June 25th, 2017 8:10 am
Ah, sometimes there is comfort in following those old familiar rituals! I was touched by them & by the subtle way you expressed the missing….of the simple things. And, thinking of that dustpan, I remember how satisfying this was as well to rid the floor of dirt. If only one could make one’s world better so easily….nowadays!
June 25th, 2017 9:10 am
Beautiful.
June 25th, 2017 9:51 am
So beautifully poignant.. sigh..
June 25th, 2017 10:24 am
lovely photos
June 25th, 2017 11:04 am
Love the final detail. It made me smile. 🙂
June 25th, 2017 12:25 pm
Just what we need … an army of women armed with brooms and dustpans, marching on Washington, intent on sweeping out the dirt! I love that analogy, and I love your poem. So many wise things we learned from our mothers.
June 25th, 2017 1:00 pm
Any grown woman who has lost a mother will know this poem from the inside out. I surely did.
June 25th, 2017 1:29 pm
This is so poignant. Very beautiful.
June 25th, 2017 2:57 pm
That last line really adds up you mother’s legacy… truly wonderful (my mother never cleaned anything, she collected instead)
June 25th, 2017 11:27 pm
The things you have in common and those things she taught you are what you hold on to and keep close….the tenderness of them comes through in these words.
June 26th, 2017 5:53 am
How beautiful and necessary these memories are of our loved ones and how they remain with us as the years roll by.
June 27th, 2017 9:48 am
A lovely poem you have penned her.
June 27th, 2017 10:40 am
echoes across time…beautifully crafted.
June 27th, 2017 10:47 am
Yes…we can each make the world a better place by cleaning up our own mess 🙂
June 27th, 2017 11:41 am
Poignant. A wonderful shared relationship; warm legacy. Strength and grace found in the simple things.
June 27th, 2017 1:19 pm
The world is made of small things like this. There’s a great youtube vid of Tony Bennett singing “I Believe in Little Things” that you might love. I loved this poem so much.
June 27th, 2017 1:45 pm
Sweet. Always with you. Lovely
June 28th, 2017 9:42 am
[…] debi on The Small Things […]
June 28th, 2017 10:14 am
Yes, one can measure a life by the volume swept up in a dustpan. I can appreciate this.
June 29th, 2017 3:02 am
I like this affectionate reminiscence.
June 29th, 2017 4:11 am
tender and moving ~