#life-is-short · #living · #love-story · #memory · #observation · #remember · age · beginnings · innocence · life · love · love poem · memories · memory · riff · time · time passes

The album

BB+TBWe will never be this young again

bb_tb_dressed_up

We always knew that, but didn’t

Believe it, until one day, looking

At pictures of how we were, when

 

We were that young, smiling photos,

The happiness blended with youth,

We had to confess that time had

Passed, happily and with the stealth

 

Of time slipping by, unnoticed and

Quieter than the images of those young

Happy people looking back at us

 

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Revival

Opaque
Opaque or transparent? …Lest I Forget

Some six months ago, I shut down one of my many blogs, Observations: Lest I Forget  and transferred much of its content to this one. I fully intended to put new content here and leave the …Lest I Forget site to history.

Truth is, I have a lot about which I wish to opine, and enjoy doing so in different fora and diverse platforms. So  Observations: Lest I Forget is being revived today, with fresh content all its own.

Enjoy.

#beauty · #Facts · #poetry · admiration · awe · beginnings · clouds · eye-catchng · inspirations · life · light · memory · painting my feelings · point of view · riff · views · weather

Ephemeral

1drawingI wish I could draw,

I would tell you so much more

Of the sky, the clouds, that low-

Flying bi-plane overhead,

I would paint you a vision of

The ephemera of a cloud with a hole

Showing blue and closing slowly

Disappearing into itself, breaking

Apart and floating like an island

But soft and pillow-like. I would tell

You of the silica glistening off

A concrete wall, its solid shape

Holding off the sky, blue and bursting

With puffs of white, soft and pillow-

Like, over our heads, seagulls

And helicopters circling above.

The changing skyscape sketched

In quick broad strokes. Picture

This portrait of air and light

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Language, language!

Lingua franca

There are times I am gripped by what feels like a lingual fantasy. I can hear the words of a proverb in what was once my native, or at least first, language in my head, but I cannot form them. I am unable to repeat them even though they are on the tip of my tongue.

Instead, I stammer and realize the inadequacy of the attempt.

Afflictions of the tongue

What was my mother tongue is lost to me in almost every way. It remains a shadow, a memory that I cannot express. These afflictions of the tongue sometimes feel like afflictions of the heart, too.

It saddens me that the words I should be able to say are stuck in my throat. i feel like I am dreaming words that are familiar, and the dream becomes a waking nightmare of regret.

Drowning

The words I hear in my head sound as if they were under water. There is no ease in repetition. The harder I try to express them, the stucker I feel. Stuck in an adopted language, one in which I am quite adept; speaking the words of a country of choice, not birth, more fluently than I ever remember speaking the language of the country I left behind.

Nativists would argue against bi-lingualism. I, despite my ineptitude, am all for it. I would love to be able to speak well in both the languages to which I belong.

I miss the fluidity I once had in moving between two languages, the gift of easy expression.

 

beginnings · expectation · family · inspirations · manners · memories · opinions · origins · two sides to every story

Good parent, moderately bad parent

Tamara@15Parenting has very little to do with the way your child turns out, so you can relax.

You don’t have that kind of influence. Parenting has a lot less to do with how and who we become as adults than people–especially parents– would like to think.

Growing up is not directly related to events in childhood. Offspring and those who raise them often lead separately parallel lives. Admit it, once they hit their teens, you’re pretty sure they’re from a different planet. And, of course, you know in your heart of hearts that they feel the same about you.

Who you are is not an outcome of who you were as a kid or what your parents did to influence you. Short of major traumas, and I acknowledge those can be horrific and can deeply affect how you view the world as a grown-up, childhood is just a passing phase.

As adults, we are looking to rectify the missteps our parents made; we image that we have suffered damages even when we had non-interventionist parents. This, as I said, is not to trivialize the real traumas some children are put through. I am speaking of adults whose parents were benevolent and caring.

Childhood is not a magic era, even when it seems ideal and placid. You know that because everyone you know complains. Your analyst knows it because s/he spends hours listening. Very few of us enjoyed life when we were teenagers, for example. Elementary school may have been a difficult period for some of us.

Those who raised us with the best of intentions are put to scrutiny and scorned for their efforts. Most of us were able to ignore their advice and guidance while living under their roof, yet we look back on our days in the family unit with displeasure.