June 8, at 3:
I requested it, but you cooked it because I already felt sick. And so, almost before I told you, you knew. I remember telling you we were pregnant with twins. You knew I had the ultrasound that day. But, again, you knew before I told you. We boxed our belongings and stored them in your basement, in your upstairs closets and empty farm buildings.
We wrenched up our family and our roots.
I imagine it felt like ripping and shattering. I can imagine it felt cold and black, unreal and yet too real.
It seems so long ago, the actual leaving, but it also seems so near. Sometimes I want to apologize to you, for causing this pain. Sometimes I want to apologize for not sending enough updates on the kids or Skyping often enough, for having stand-in relatives.
If I could live two lives, one of me would stay put and one would be on this wild adventure I am on. So instead, I will simply say thank you.
Thank you for teaching us to work hard, to trust like crazy, to dream big, to love deep. Thank you for helping us pass these qualities on to your grandchildren. Thank you for crying when we left but for never making us feel guilty.
Thank you for making space in your homes for our boxes, space for our bodies when we are back. Thank you for giving your grandchildren a safe place to talk about their experiences, for being interested in their lives, for seeing that they are content and for not overturning that.
Thank you for all the trips to the airportfor welcome signs and welcome candies, for homemade quilts to warm our freezing toes, for bags of stylish clothes to wear while in the US. Thank you for picnics and parties and fresh fish fry and bean-bag toss and lasagna and bowls of strawberries.
Thank you for keeping family traditions and for slipping us in seamlessly when we are here to join. Thank you for sending some of those traditions in packages across the sea.Cross Cultural Poetics.
hosted by Leonard Schwartz. Image credit: Carlos David. Cross Cultural Poetics is produced in the studios of KAOS-FM at The Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington.
Thank you! This letter could have been written to my grandparents, who have all now passed away. My parents were raised to “go into the world” and my grandparents were just as supportive and faithful when my mom and dad did, in fact, take us and raise us in Africa.
Yellowcard, my life will forever be changed because of your music. I will never forget listening to Ocean Avenue for the first time on a drive with my family in the car to Salt Lake City as a 14 year old boy.
Sep 03, · As many of us prepare to bid farewell to our university and college-bound children I was reminded of an article I read recently in the paper. A journalist asked a number of her women friends what.
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