Time to read, paint, imagine.
A room of my own with a door
that lead to another world.
Quiet and peaceful.
My belongings were mine
and in order.
I pushed a refrigerator box
into the living room and
lived in it for a week.
I picked my favorite toys
to join me in my special retreat.
I cut out a door so I could emerge
for meals.
My flashlight illuminated
the box for reading and playing.
I didn’t want a window,
for fear of intrusion.
Someone might see into my hide-away
and all the way into my thoughts.
I knew how to entertain myself.
I talked to my Howdy Doody puppet
and pretended it was my brother.
We traveled and the car’s back seat
was mine, to spread out and dream
and drift off to sleep.
The back seat was mine for too many years.
I realized that no one would join our tiny family.
There would be no brothers or sisters for me.
I finally got tired of asking my parents
and hearing them say, “no.”
Loneliness became a physical pain.
I dreamt that I was holding a baby brother.
I would awaken in my big bed , sad and disappointed.
The pillow I hugged, wet with tears.
To this day, I am an only with a difficult mother.
No one to share her care.
No one to share a history.
No one
but me.
Dear Janet,
I have tears in my eyes after reading this deeply moving poem. Nobody should ever be alone. Extremely well written!
Love and a warm hug...Chanti
so you get all her love....there is real pain here
know it has got to be hard to have no-one to share,
try looking at it another way and if that doesn't work
you always have persons here (.AD) to listen/share
take care
Can relate, like the others below, on many levels to this one, Janet, and the pain can be very real - both at the time and much later, if there is no resolution in some shape or form. Yet I somehow have the impression that your own home is very different, with the "taking in" of others within your circle of family and hospitality. This must bring you much joy. Things can become even more sharp-focussed and intense as our parents age, forcing a "turning of the tables" in the role of control and dominance. At 47 years I am just "breaking loose", growing up and discovering a self who I have never known and have been too afraid to give space to. This degree of self-denial can't be right! Thankfully my mother remains, at 87, in good health and staunchly independent - and recognises now my need for personal growth and space. I do believe you have a supportive husband who can work this through with you - but maybe you find, like me, that it is the dynamic of "always being the little girl of a strong mother" that is the difficult thing to overcome. You paint the canvas of the only child so beautifully here. Like me, you probably pray for a real closeness and reality of relationship to enter in to colour and redefine the past, present and whatever future may be left for you to share together. Heartfelt, thank you!! Kate xx
excellent poem! very moving and well written ... i am in exactly the same boat as far as knowing blood relatives ... mother died when i was a three days old, no siblings, only vaguely remembering my grandparents on my father's side who passed away many years ago ...
a poignant piece, Janet. caring for an elderly parent, difficult or not, can be a consuming affair--with or without siblings. it is vital that you take care of yourself first.
much appreciated the way you developed this piece.
Very best wishes,
Carolyn
Reviewed by Judy Lloyd (Reader)
Reviewed on January 25, 2005
Yes that is sad and I am the youngest of seven. I can not image having gone through life without either one of them.
Such an illuminating personal sharing. Janet this is wonderful , and I hope by the sharing, it shows you how much you have grown into the beautiful, woman, wife, mother, daughter, friend, among the many other blessings that you are.
Janet, really enjoyed this. I was having discussion with my daughter just the other day and she was planning to have no further kids afater only having this one. She was going to make it perm so I may show this to her, it might help her decide.
Felix
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on January 25, 2005
Ha! I was an only child. I loved it. Got all the love (and the beating) for myself. Then . . . then, when I was sixteen I acquired a baby brother and in the next few years, two more. Drat. Now I had to share. Loved the poem, Janet and understood, I just can't help my crazy takes on things.
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
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Best wishes
I have tears in my eyes after reading this deeply moving poem. Nobody should ever be alone. Extremely well written!
Love and a warm hug...Chanti
know it has got to be hard to have no-one to share,
try looking at it another way and if that doesn't work
you always have persons here (.AD) to listen/share
take care
Somedays/nights the bed can seem like a lonely dessert.
much appreciated the way you developed this piece.
Very best wishes,
Carolyn
Love, Eileen
Felix