Comfort
The old limestone house cradled Charlotte,
slanted porch a bosom of activity all afternoon
into early evening, her hands busy
peeling potatoes, snapping peas, shucking corn;
come evenings, mending socks and shirts,
her wooden chair not for leisure nor daydreams.
She was a vintage vision, her button down dress
wrinkle free, tissues sensibly folded
in front pocket, hair smoothed into tight bun,
no-nonsense shoes, polished. Matronly, yes.
But it was a term of endearment.
Past glimpsed as she showed me old well,
chicken coop, outhouse, noble red barn
with peeling paint, rustlings of spirits
echoing off horse and carriage stalls.
Majestic cedar trees towered over lawn,
grand sentinels dripping pinecones like diamonds;
peanut butter wedged between prongs,
enticed birds to flirt and flutter, fill up
as I sketched, each declared a masterpiece.
Charlotte passed on when I was a little girl.
Pony and I missed her encouraging smile,
comforting friendship, lively stories; front door
forever closed, no more peaks
into magical kitchen, porch empty...
yet when I think of home and dearest neighbor,
my memory sketches in the cedars, the wooden chair,
and dear Charlotte waving, forever inviting.
by Margaret Bednar, September 13, 2022
This is a true recollection. I was a very shy child and Charlotte gave me such comfort. I would ride my pony over and stay all afternoon. I am grateful her grandson has fixed up the house and barns and outbuildings to a very high standard - they host beautiful weddings in the barn now and I recently walked through it. It was like a hug ;).
linked with "dVerse Poets Pub - The Strange Houses of Lee Madgwick". The image isn't spot on to my limestone house in my poem - but it inspired this true memory of a dear woman and her farmhouse. Something must be wrong with me... everyone else seems to have found this image haunting or scary - I find it comforting if not a bit lonely, protective, maybe a bit sad...
14 comments:
Beautiful memories and poem
So beautiful and such a heartwarming tribute, Margaret!
It's funny how everyone sees things slightly differently. We bring ourselves, I guess. That first stanza is particularly strong - by the end I felt I knew this woman just through her actions. She sounds wonderful.
Ah. A wonderful nostagic poem.
Thanks for dropping by my blog to read mine
Much 💛love
The trees are hugging the house in your honour. You've brought a memory to life.
To me, the picture looks like two green hands holding the house protectively. I'm glad you have this memory--it's lovely to recall a place of comfort and happiness.
Thank you for sharing this heartfelt piece of prose.
Margaret, your prose took me to a place of peace. Beautifully composed ….
What a wonderful neighbor to have... it also says so much of a world that is gone.
Comfort - yes, absolutely Margaret. What wonderful memories to wrap around you.
What lovely memories! And so lovingly recounted. Thank you for introducing us to Charlotte. We too are a little bit richer now for getting to know her through your words.
Margaret, this is sooo nice, reminds me of Mom. She was a city girl and married to a Nebraska dirt farmer share cropping on one of grandpa's farms. Like your Charlotte, she learned fast, ran the chicken and egg bit and the garden besides the house and us kids, ++. After we sold the farm, the new owner bulldozed all the buildings except the house, pulled down the house where I was born also. Then he burned the huge pile of scrap.
I have her pristine 1974 Ford Mustang II Ghia with 67K miles, Ford green with a vinyl top and sunroof.
..
What a lovely and precious memory. Thanks for sharing this Margaret.
What a lovely poem and memory, Margaret!
Post a Comment