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.
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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
Vacuuming,
dusting
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.
Honorary
musketeers
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
Vacuuming,
dusting
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!”
