Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Nothing Gold Can Stay

I never enjoyed homework when I was in school, much less essays. Sad to say, I typically still do not enjoy helping my kids with homework. A few nights ago, my youngest daughter had to write an essay about her summer reading. It was over a book she read, The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. (FYI: S.E. Hinton wrote it in HIGH SCHOOL, second seller only to Charlotte's Web.)
          I have known virtually every word to the movie since I was a child, thanks to my older sister loving it. Not to mention, many heartthrobs starred in it. They were babies, but still wonderful. The cast consists of Tom Cruise, Matt Dillon, Ralph Macchio, Rob Lowe (yummy,) Emilio Estevez, C. Thomas Howell, Leif Garrett, Diane Lane … and of course, my all time favorite, Patrick Swayze … “Darry.”
          The homework assignment was to explain Robert Frost’s poem, Nothing Gold Can Stay, along with Johnny’s words about what he thought Robert Frost meant. My daughter was stumped, thinking it was contradictory, talking about the colors green and gold and that life is more valuable when you are a kid. That’s where it all began …
The poem:
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

       I remembered this poem, along with Johnny’s last words before he died, “Stay gold Ponyboy, stay gold.”
However, considering the cutie patootie cast, I suppose I didn’t give it as much thought as I should. Now I have.

          We dissected each line …

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Babies Growing Up ... Mommies Growing Up

I haven’t written in awhile, too many thoughts in my head. I wonder, who am I writing this TO/FOR? I see posts on Facebook directed to A person; yet they are posted on a public site? Does the posting person want to allow everyone in on a private comment, that is no longer private? I don’t get it. Then, I look at myself and wonder who I am speaking to when I write this blog. It is an outlet to place something deep within myself into a bottle and throw it out to sea.

My blogs are messages in bottles … No idea what shoreline they will wash upon or who will open the bottle, or if that person will even understand my message. I still throw it anyway …      

The truth is, time is passing too quickly for me and I am attempting to freeze moments. I look at things longer now … I look at my children longer. I hug them tighter and for just a few more seconds. I smile at them more. I kiss them more. One day, I know I will have to rely on this reservoir of memories, so I am stockpiling them. I look happy because I am happy, but I am scared, really scared, and I cry a lot. Not necessarily because I’m sad, I just seem to need to cry.