That's my husband when he was a little boy. He left the cowboy boots behind but does carry a gun to work everyday. Maybe he's not exactly the Wild West sheriff he dreamed of being but a city cop is pretty darn close. He never dreamed of going back to college either but at age 33 that's exactly what he's doing. He's taking this semester slow--just one class, Composition I--to see how much he can handle with his work schedule. Eight weeks in and so far he's gotten perfect scores on all 9 assignments (a wife can brag a little, right?). So for today's Poetry Friday spotlight I'm posting a poem he wrote for a recent assignment, the Where I'm From writing exercise.
leaves blowing in the breeze.
I’m from dressing up like a Wild West sheriff
and mounting a large flower pot shaped like a mule
and chasing invisible rustlers into the sunset.
I’m from staying up late fighting heavy eyelids
and watching Star Trek episodes,
waiting for my father to return from working second shift.
I’m from making trips across the river
to a neighborhood fish market;
watching the owners pet chimps play for hours.
I’m from spending endless hours with my father
sitting on a levee watching rail cars move back and forth
in a rail yard,
asking time and time again where they came from
and where they’re going.
I’m from visiting my father at work and enjoying a Zero bar
and chocolate milk in the break room.
I’m from camping with my grandparents for weeks at a time in the summer,
waking before dawn to help my grandfather check trotlines,
and playing Skipbo with my grandmother all evening.
I’m from a time I dearly miss but can never return to.
A time traveler headed ever forward into an uncertain future,
missing lost loved ones that I’ll never see again.
I’m from taking my wife and sons’ hands
and traveling farther into the great unknown without regrets,
together growing old;
the best IS yet to be!