My book of days

Click the title to check out my newest project, My book of Days. I also added it to my links.

I used to have this neat little book that had a space for every day of the year like a regular day book but it didn't matter what the year was. When something memorable happened in your life you could just write it in on that day with the year. As time went by and the book got filled I had this neat little book of wonderful memories. It's around here somewhere still but it was packed up in a box when we moved and I never unpacked it. There wasn't enough room to keep adding to it anyway but it was neat to read back through. I remember after my father in law died and I was so terribly sad. I came across that book and was just flipping through it and read the entries about the birth of my son Jared and then some of the cute little things he did thoughout the first years of his life. I was amazed to see how many times I wrote about Jared and his grandpa together. Jared was only 3 when his grandpa died but they did so much together in that time! They called each other "Pard" for partner as if they were cowboys on a ranch. When Jared was just shy of one year old he would hear a big truck drive by and would say "pa-pee come-ing" or Pa-pee go work". Sometimes Grandpa would come by and take his little "pard" for a ride in the big truck. After reading through all of those entries I wrote a poem that covered that whole time and in the end I realized the time really is of the essence. We need to treasure each day because we are not gauranteed tomorrow.

Here is the poem I wrote for Jared and his Grandpa.


When the wind blew

The wind was blowing
When you were born in the spring.
I watched the treetops swaying
from my hospital bed as you lay on my chest.

It was blowing when you were one,
Running though the grass,
Picking dandelions for Papa.
Papa always smiled when he watched you play.
Sometimes you made him smile a tear
And he would rub it into his calloused hand.

The wind was blowing when Papa died.
The rain poured down with our tears.
You drew Papa a picture to help him get better,
but he never did.

Yesterday, the wind was blowing.
The dandelions blew like snow in the air
And swirled above the soccer fields.
You taught your brother how to kick the ball
And how to run faster than the wind.

I smiled as I thought of Papa smiling at you,
That first day when the wind blew.

Copywrite- Donna Capps

Parkinson disease

My parents called me Saturday. We all knew it was going to happen but that doesn't make it any easier... The doctor said my Grandmother won't live through the week. I've talked to several people in my family that I've not spoken to in a very long time. I nearly didn't recognize my older brothers voice. It was like talking to someone from another lifetime and trying to figure out how they fit into this one.

I was hoping I could see my grandmother one more time before she died... but now it's too late. I don't want to see her like this and have that image the predominate one over all of my memories. I wish there was something I could do to make things easier for her.

I felt awful for not sending the card I bought for her a couple weeks ago. My mom said I should just stop sending letters now. She wont get them now. She said you can't understand what she says at all anymore. The last thing she said that anyone could understand was "I want to go home to my room". My aunt asked her if she meant the nursing home and she told her no, she meant HER room at HER home (at the farm that is now sold).

I think she's suffered enough now. Her Angel needs to take her home...........



FALLEN
Lyrics by Bree Sharp
Music by Bree Sharp and Don Dilego
©1998 Trauma Records


Lucy is gazing out into space
She has starry eyes, starry eyes that light up her face
Like an angel

Little girl, little girl questioning me
She says, 'why doesn't everyone have what they need?'
Where are the angels, angels, angels?
Where are the angels, angels, angels?'

I cannot tell you my little darling
All my faith has fallen, fallen, fallen

The stars in Lucy's eyes run down her cheek
Like teardrops of fire, still her voice is as sweet
As an angel

She says, 'where is the place that the good souls go
Where they take away, take away the pain that they know
Where are the angels, angels, angels?
Where are the angels, angels, angels?'

I cannot tell you my little darling
All my faith has fallen, fallen, fallen

Ashes, ashes, all fall down
Ashes, ashes, all fall down
If I could take the world in my arms
I'd take all the wrong and I'd fly

Yes, I'd like to know
Where the good souls go
Where are the angels, angels, angels?
Where are the angels, angels, angels?

I cannot tell you my little darling
All my faith has fallen, fallen, fallen

I cannot tell you my little darling
All my faith has fallen, fallen, fallen

Poetry

I haven't written anything in a long time it seems. I just haven't had much inspiration I guess. Since the beginning of the new year I've been doing a lot of reflecting. I keep rolling over old memories that I thought where long gone. My sister is in Texas and my brother in Alabama but it seems like worlds away from here. We certainly don't talk much anymore. I wish we could be closer.

Today I was watching my boys playing together and was suddenly hit by a rush of emotion. I can't stand the thought of them growing up and leaving home. One thing that gives me confort is that I've worked hard at keeping my family close. I know my boys love each other and they love us. I know this family wont just drift apart.


Don’t grow up on me

Two big brown eyes
And two slightly smaller
Sparkled as laughter filled the room
My sister had the biggest smile
Mine only slightly smaller then.
I loved it when she curled my hair
And dressed me up and let me spin.

When I was just five
I couldn’t understand
Why when big sisters grow up
they get their own wings
And they fly away from home.

A sly grin and a can of pop
And brown hair like mine only shorter
My brother always looked so cool
He tore down hills on Dad’s 3 wheeler
but I always came out on top
‘Cause my brother always took good care of me
And beat up mean boys at the bus stop.

Then when I was 16 years old
I learned to understand
When big brothers grow up
they get their own wings
And they fly away from home.

Two big brown eyes
And two slightly larger
Toss baseballs out on the field
They jeer and then laugh
Slapping high fives in the air
They don’t know just what they’ve got
And It seems so unfair.

I’m not sure how old I’ll be
But I’ve learned to understand
Those boys will grow up and get their own wings
And fly away from home.

DC 1/6/2006