Unless specified otherwise, text on this blog is copyright © by Christine Young.

I am currently updating my story, Commonwealth of Souls, so it is in draft form and not shown. I will post when I have completed it.



My Belief

"The value of humanity can be found in the way we proceed through life; the way we go or do not go to war; the way we hate or love our neighbor; the way we abuse or cherish our children, and, most importantly, the way we disregard or value nature and all the beautiful creatures sharing this planet with us. Respect and appreciation of nature and of all life itself is the foundation upon which a kind heart stands."

"Happiness is important. When you're happy your soul's thirst for light is quenched. But sadness is also important, as it allows for down time and contemplation, and, without sadness, how could we recognize happiness."

Saturday, February 20, 2010

All Little Girls

My mom will be ninety years old soon. Thankfully she still enjoys good health and wits in keeping with her age. She still lives in the house she and my dad bought across the street from my sister and her family. My dad passed away in August of 2009. She misses him terribly. We all do.

Mom enjoys playing cards with my sister and I and her granddaughters, my nieces. We are a loud bunch and always have a good time. There is a grandson, my nephew, but he's always out and about and probably wouldn't be caught dead playing cards with a bunch of women. They are all young adults (my sister's offspring), the youngest being in her first year at Towson University in Maryland. We are very proud of her. But I digress.

Since my nieces would have to be taught how to play poker, we opt for playing UNO, which is not a big favorite of mine, but I put up with it. My mom enjoys any card game as long as she's surrounded by those she loves. But if it's just me and my sister and our husbands, we opt for penny anti poker. That is my game of choice. Anything else would be tiresome as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, the reason I'm telling you all this is for no specific reason, other than to paint a picture of our immediate family life with my mom. I had other things on my mind to say here, but I was distracted because my husband could not find one of our two cats and was searching frantically. We finally found her in my sock drawer and how she got in we'll never know, but I'm back now with no memory of what I wanted to add to this missive.

So my main purpose in this little diatribe is to introduce one of my mother's poems from way-back-when. It is a favorite of mine. She wrote it when I was thirteen years old and when her first granddaughter was born. This niece is the first born offspring of my other sister (I have only two) who has yet to be mentioned here because she and my other brother-in-law have chosen to retire eight hours away from the aforementioned card game.

To My First Little Granddaughter, Kim

A little bit of heaven fell from out the sky one day,
And it landed in my living room, just a smile away.
It nestled on the sofa in a blanket soft as down
And I peeked and saw an angel in a tiny satin gown.
Her cheeks were red as roses, her eyes as blue as the sky,
With a tiny little pug nose and a smile you couldn't buy.
She took the household over and reigned just like a queen,
This tiny little angel, this lovely little dream.
A precious little bundle sent from the sky above
For her mommy and her daddy to cherish and to love.


Then there was this one...another favorite:

All little girls love the same little things,.
The same little bracelets, the same little rings,
The same little puppies and the same little cats,
Stick out slips, pony tales and the same pretty hats.

All little girls have the same little sighs,
The same little twinkle in their cute little eyes,
The same little tempers, the same little schemes,
and the same little angels in their sweet little dreams.

All little girls know the same little things,
How to walk in high heels, how to ride on the swings,
How to cuddle a doll and pretend that's it real,
How to flirt, how to pout, how to giggle and squeal.

All little girls are the same little things,
Enchanting and lovely, like a butterfly's wings,
Charming, delightful, a treasure to hold,
Because God made them all from the same little mold.


Poetry by Lydia Louise Gifford
Copyright 1963-2010