I Remember Some Umbrellas

I remember some umbrellas had lights. Reflective beads.
How we had to wind the handles hard to open them up.
How every time we forgot to roll them down, an accidental
wind would have its way. I remember the years wicker held
us in softer lines, and the time your sister Mary came &said
our place made her feel like nothing bad could ever happen.

I remember the dove and her babies. Your strawberries.
Dancing on the concrete in my suit like I was 4 instead
of 40 to that new song about sunshine, or maybe a house.
I remember hanging curtains, because you wanted shade,
&unfolding a rug which the dog chewed-up on one end, just
like she did to the underside of my hammock’s striped sling.

I remember sunscreen, hair bands, safety gates, squabbles,
and timeouts. Tossing the girls goldfish into their mouths
like they were water creatures or mermaids. I remember that
popcorn drizzled with peanut butter&honey tastes better melted
in the sun. I remember Marco Polo pauses, reflective small voices,
that April’s always too soon to go swimming, that ice never lasts.

day 29 NaPoWriMo
for Real Toads


27 thoughts on “I Remember Some Umbrellas

  1. I especially love tossing the mermaid-girls goldfish, but the whole set is full of warmth and love.

  2. I’m liking your “I remember” prose poem here.
    Did you remember taking back milk bottles so the babies could have milk the last week before pay day?
    Did you remember allowing the Red Cross to pay for a month of hospital bills before the twins were paid, or having them pay for the smallest one three more weeks in the hospital?
    Did you remember a car that would back up or go into second gear.
    Did you remember having you father GIVE you a car and you loved it even though it had over 100K miles?
    I know yours were similar, that makes us appreciate what we have now and to be very frugal with it.
    Bless you, Angie (I’m taking from your previous comments that this is a true remembrance).

    1. Oops, the Mercury would NOT go into second gear or back up. After the switch my BIL drove our older one back to Nebraska from El Paso. Dad’s car was only a year newer than our Mercury.

  3. This form suits you SO well.
    I’m just gonna live in this line for awhile:
    “I remember the years wicker held
    us in softer lines”

    I feel like I may have said this before (I hope I did…sometimes with me intention = action. In other words, if I mean to do it, I sometimes think I already did it. Even if I didn’t. But I digress)…I may have said this before, but will you please write a novel? I shall purchase the first (signed, of course) copy. And I shall brag that I knew you when…

  4. . . . your sister Mary came &said/our place made her feel like nothing bad could ever happen.

    What a wonderful feeling to have. And wonderful for those who made that feeling possible.

  5. Wow. It’s amazing how getting a sneak peek into someone else’s “I remember” moments can be such a rich sensory and emotional experience. You draw us in with both the serious and the funny….and with your gorgeous expression of the vast expanse of the human experience.

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