Raising 5 Kids and My Wife Does Not Like Poetry
He recalls the rumble and tumult over three decades:
Bikes tangled for toddlers, then children, then teens.
Mountains of ski equipment, helmets, boots, and
Stacks of hockey gear, mouth-guards and
Sleeping bags, tents, backpacks and heavy black pans.
Sneakers, high boots, Sperrys, rollerblades, and pumps.
Bales of jackets, hats, scarves, and gloves.
Piles of clothes for school, play, and the babies.
Pink and white castles. Legos, dress-up, and Elvis costumes.
Potions. Cheese sticks. Cheerios.
Lost teeth. Sleepless nights.
Cakes, camps, and cars.
Doctor visits and dental repairs.
New brakes and bald tires.
Mud, mucus, pee, and blood.
Trauma, drama, and fist fights.
Peals of laughter. Plus
Hours upon hours of driving hither and yon.
Feasts and Festivals are bright spots —
Her annual Christmas eve all-nighter,
Decisions not made, with options unresolved,
And late nights, years ago, assembling toys, toys, toys.
Christmas morning with the Yule log blazing.
Bing on the stereo, funny stockings
And the jumble of packages, boxes, and bags.
Turkeys, roasts, and nut pies wafting in the rafters.
Many years of the long drive to the Sound, with
Grumpy children sleeping and
Not as much traffic as he feared.
And sad days have they shared —
The loss of her father,
The near drowning of a son,
Regrettable and costly decisions by teens,
A son off to the Marines,
Sibling illness,
Aging parents,
Financial hardships,
Burdens from tuitions and
Too many bills yet unpaid.
Years of never seeming to catch up.
It is always something.
Yet, he seeks solace in the peace of
Hearth fires burning on a snowy night,
Celtic chords of music in the air,
And in her sleep, breathing rhythmic air,
With the faithful hound
Snoring by the foot of the bed.
So together they work hard, day by day,
Over the stealthy creeping years, yet while
Nature’s mortality holds its inevitable power,
These memories represent their Immortality!
By Jeffrey Manning, Sr.
October Process 