My mom was cleaning out my childhood closet and found a poem written in my handwriting about my relation ship with Tenielle. I don't remember when I wrote it, but I do vaguely remember writing it. For Christmas I typed it up, put it on velum and then put a picture of Tenielle and I behind it when we were little. Here is the poem I wrote for my sister.
My Sister, My Friend
When we were only little girls
So many years ago
We would have given anything
Just to see and know
A picture of our future
The outcome of our lives
To see ourselves all grown up
Being women, mothers and wives.
And when I think of whom we’ve become
And how very far we’ve come
I think of the beginning
And where we started from.
We’ve shared so much through
the years you and I
Our rooms, our clothes
And the last piece of pie.
Our hopes, our dreams
Our most secret wishes
And doing the dishes.
Sharing these times while growing up
Before we had homes of our own
Back before call waiting
We’d fight over time on the phone.
I would tell and you would yell
We pulled each other’s hair
And through it all…eventually,
We both learned how to share.
Since then…We’ve never stopped
Through so many years
We’ve shared the good times and the bad,
The laughter and the tears.
For hours and hours
We would play
things that kids
don’t do today.
Remember our horses made of sticks?
They ran so fast and did neat tricks.
We’d tie them up at the end of the day
To be sure they didn’t run away.
That was you and me
Back before Nintendo,
VCR’s and MTV.
We’d pretend to be mothers
And play house with our dolls
And sit for hours playing jacks
With daddy’s golf balls.
I can almost see us
Standing side by side
On the first day of school at the bus stop
When your new shoes hurt so bad you cried.
And then again on our wedding days
When we took turns as the bride.
At the nursery window when our babies were born,
We stood hand in hand and side by side.
Being a part in each others heart
For all the occasions of time
There to share all the moments
All of yours and mine
So here we are
How far we’ve come,
From way back where
We started from.
Still sharing our dreams
And our most secret wishes
and doing the dishes.
Sharing this life
From beginning to end
With you as my sister
and very best friend.
For Christmas my aunt put together a book and so I wrote a poem about Sunday's at my grandparents.
Sunday’s Evenings At My Grandparents
Sunday evenings are the best
Because it’s time for our Young family to meet at the nest.
The circle of cars that I see from afar
Means the dum dums must be stuffed full in Grandpa’s Lollipop Jar.
Arriving at their yellow stone home on 37th street
It’s for sure another Sunday evening won’t be beat!
We open the little latch of the front gate
As we smell Grandma’s roses or her purple and green grapes.
Grandma has gone all out with her holiday decorations again
Reminding us of each season before, now and then.
With a fire crackling and cousin’s mingling
We’re ready for a few of Grandpa’s jokes and a Diet Coke (or Pepsie).
It’s time for applesauce cake and to fill your cone with selections of ice cream
While we enjoy eating outside with our cousins on the swing or the trampoline
We catch up on the latest news of family and friends
And are bummed when the festivities of the night are about to end.
Grandpa sings a few songs from his favorite band.
And we never leave without a few lollipops in our hand
With a love ya love ya and a kiss on the cheek
We yell back, “We’ll see you next week!”