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Gladiolas. Pictures, Images and Photos

Moving through memories
feels a bit like swimming through glycerin…

…soft and slow, at times so clear and

sometimes so surprising that it's hard to breathe


and I am three,
being lifted over and through the bright gladiolas
growing along our back fence
to play with the child who
lives in the house
behind ours

I don't remember her name and wonder,

Should I?

But I do remember my dad, in his sixties style
t-shirt (they call them wife-beaters now),
his trousers dirty from
working the yard

squeals of delighted and delicious fun
as he mists us with the hose…

cool, life-giving, welcome water spraying
over our heads, onto our chubby bodies
on that hot summer day

simple joys


best mother ever, coming through the back door
in her seersucker pedal-pushers
and cat's eye glasses
smiling at me,
so pretty,
kissing dad

that was love to me

still is

Looking into
the mirror above my bedside bureau
I still see that tiny, smiling,
carefree cherub…

…she's just below
the surface

looking back at me,
waiting for me

to come out

and play

tea party Pictures, Images and Photos

K.Tate Jacoby
copyright March 18, 2012

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