Memories in a Bag

As young child it fascinated me

It was an old blue leather handbag
even then
not worth a penny
yet contained priceless memories.

Pictures of my family
Some so old time had turned them
to sepia.

Little cards the nurses gave
telling date, time, weight and sex
upon the moment of birth.
Envelopes with locks of hair
a few poems on scraps of paper
from yours truly.

Theater programs, cinema tickets
school swimming certificates
bracelets, smelling salts
my mother’s most prized possession
a pair of Oh so delicate fine lace gloves
which were her mother’s.

A bag of magic to me as I’d ask if
I could get it out of the cupboard
and then she’d talk about this person
or that event and, her eyes would shine.

It was the only thing I ever asked for
of hers if and when she died
never thinking that it would
come to pass so suddenly
and now ever since 1989 the bag
and all of its memories
became mine to treasure too.


© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

*Memories are priceless and worth so much more (to me) than material possessions.
You can only see some of the pics and cards and such there that I scattered to take the picture but, in the bag are dozens more.
The pic in the bag of the man holding the baby is my father and …me ūüôā

Shared with Poetry Jam If I could have just a moment
Poets United Think Tank #114 Timeworn

Mothers Pride

Through the lean years
only scraps on the table
hunger ate straight from the sugar bowl
Bread and gravy, a feast to fill
and chicken, pure Christmas delight.

A gentle spirit shone its
brightest light for the
meek and mild child to follow
where it lead


shown there was more to life
to admire, to aspire
She picked up each broken
piece of trust, each wound and
each betrayal
Each broken piece of love
and held onto it tight
(sometimes too tight for love to breathe)
there was so much she had to learn.

She grew and knew
we can remain ‘neath the shroud
of those hunger years
despite them

Make a wanting mother


© Daydreamertoo    *All rights reserved

My childhood was not easy.  My birth father died when I was 2 and 1/2 years old and from 3 years old my (closest in age) sister and I were placed in many, many, foster homes both state run and, private. I have mostly dreadful memories, the first being, having my leg broken by an impatient woman at 3 years old. Until we finally all went to live with our mother & stepfather when I was around 9.

My mother became pregnant at 16, married and by the time she was 21 she’d had 5 children. By the time she was 36 she was a grandmother. She was so ignorant in so many ways. Completely unable to cope with housekeeping and money and yet, she kept on having babies. In the end she had 10 children, 5 to my father and 5 to my step-father (who was my own father’s brother) yes, it is legal for a widow to marry her deceased husband’s brother.

My point is, we get to where we are because of where we’ve been but, because we are poor, malnourished, etc, we don’t have to remain there. At 17 I was very angry with everyone. ¬†Angry at the world for all its many wrongs but, we have a choice to make. We can either stay in that cycle or, we can break it. I knew if I continued to feel hatred and anger it would eventually be my downfall. So, I made a conscious choice to walk the path of love… to never hurt anyone throughout my life in the many ways in which I’d been hurt as a child who trusted those adults who came into my life.

For all her faults, I loved my mother. She was the best mother that she knew how to be and, she loved us all.
Never once did she judge me, never once did she fail to tell me how proud she was of all of the things I had set out to do and have achieved over the course of my life and, that unconditional love and complete acceptance of me for who and what I am helped immensely to make me the person that I am today.

I believe every child has a right to their childhood. To not have their innocence stolen. To not have their trust broken. I believe they should believe in ‘the good fairy’ in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and keep those beliefs for as long as possible. No child asks to be born and, it is the parents¬†responsibility to raise them in a safe and loving¬†environment as they can.

Our past shapes us but…. it doesn’t have to break us. Through a good education we are given choices to each become more than those hardships we have known and, to be a better person for them.

Shared a small piece of my heart here with you all in the hope that it might help someone, somewhere.

Shared with Thursday Think Tank #70 Hunger
Three Word wednesday #CCLX11 

ABC Wednesday #Prompt letter ‘M’