Headstall's Reflections - 43. Chapter 43 Pieces Left Behind

So much love for this poem, Gary. All of the memories like remnants and small reminders of a fulfilling life spent watching your kids grow up. You are surrounded by your kids even though they are not physically present. Very heartwarming. Thanks for this.

You just captured all the reasons I don't like moving...I've only done it twice--okay, the one just before I turned three doesn't count...so it's twice in y adult life. There were a lot of memories stored up in that ranch house in the country--twenty-seven years of them, and it's weird to think that as of this year, I've lived in my current house a year longer!
Lots of memories here too, but though I'd hate to leave, it doesn't feel the same--is it something in the water that makes country places the ones we are closest too? Or is it the memories from those early years were of friends and adventures rather than another working day?
Nostalgia hits hard when you take time to let it in!

There are so many memories tied up with places. Unfortunately, we had to move a few times to different cites (work) so I'm not tied to homes in that way. Our memories are tied to a cottage. There are so many memories, both happy and sad, that I couldn't imagine ever giving it up.

The memories are what make it home. Your kids gave you such joyful rememberances as you in turned did for them ... and then there are those furred and feathered and scaly ones too that beauty with the shared lives. I am overjoyed to think of you smiling over these words. Namaste my friend.

Wonderful! So sweet and full of love. You can hear children´s laughter while reading it. I am captivated.
Lyssa

What strikes me most about this poem are the objects and images which appear, one after another. This makes the vision so very real to me, more than just a photo album of your farm. I can practically touch the tree, sit on the old bucket, look for a basketball to play hoops with...you have made your life tangible, and in doing so, made me hear the laughter and yearn for the same memories you bring to mind.

Nice Gary. My mum said to me that memories arent in the building ... and i suppose they aren't but the stuff left behind certainly is. I dont have much stuff from her, but the things i do are cherished.
Lovely Gary... xoxo

Your poem touches all those little things that make my kids laugh at me over the things I have kept from their infancy and childhood. Those things that can still bring tears to my eyes if I look at them, touch them, even just think about them.
I'm so glad you shared this.
Molly

On 01/28/2017 05:02 AM, MacGreg said:

So much love for this poem, Gary. All of the memories like remnants and small reminders of a fulfilling life spent watching your kids grow up. You are surrounded by your kids even though they are not physically present. Very heartwarming. Thanks for this.

Thanks, Mac! I'm pleased you liked this... my children... yeah, worth a poem or two

On 01/28/2017 05:07 AM, ColumbusGuy said:

You just captured all the reasons I don't like moving...I've only done it twice--okay, the one just before I turned three doesn't count...so it's twice in y adult life. There were a lot of memories stored up in that ranch house in the country--twenty-seven years of them, and it's weird to think that as of this year, I've lived in my current house a year longer!

Lots of memories here too, but though I'd hate to leave, it doesn't feel the same--is it something in the water that makes country places the ones we are closest too? Or is it the memories from those early years were of friends and adventures rather than another working day?

Nostalgia hits hard when you take time to let it in!

Thanks, buddy. We do what we have to, but as long as I can, I will stay put... my kids history started here

On 01/28/2017 05:36 AM, LitLover said:

There are so many memories tied up with places. Unfortunately, we had to move a few times to different cites (work) so I'm not tied to homes in that way. Our memories are tied to a cottage. There are so many memories, both happy and sad, that I couldn't imagine ever giving it up.

It's nice to have the visual reminders

On 01/28/2017 05:52 AM, dughlas said:

The memories are what make it home. Your kids gave you such joyful rememberances as you in turned did for them ... and then there are those furred and feathered and scaly ones too that beauty with the shared lives. I am overjoyed to think of you smiling over these words. Namaste my friend.

Yes, this was a happy poem... comforting... thanks, dugh

On 01/28/2017 06:34 AM, Lyssa said:

Wonderful! So sweet and full of love. You can hear children´s laughter while reading it. I am captivated.

Lyssa

I'm glad you could hear it too, Lyssa... thank you

On 01/28/2017 06:49 AM, Parker Owens said:

What strikes me most about this poem are the objects and images which appear, one after another. This makes the vision so very real to me, more than just a photo album of your farm. I can practically touch the tree, sit on the old bucket, look for a basketball to play hoops with...you have made your life tangible, and in doing so, made me hear the laughter and yearn for the same memories you bring to mind.

Yes, my farm is a photo album. I'm pleased you could see the pictures and hear the sounds

On 01/28/2017 09:29 AM, Mikiesboy said:

Nice Gary. My mum said to me that memories arent in the building ... and i suppose they aren't but the stuff left behind certainly is. I dont have much stuff from her, but the things i do are cherished.

Lovely Gary... xoxo

I cherish many 'things,' but only because of the memories they bring to the surface and love for the person they belonged to... thanks, tim xoxo

On 01/28/2017 12:06 PM, mollyhousemouse said:

Your poem touches all those little things that make my kids laugh at me over the things I have kept from their infancy and childhood. Those things that can still bring tears to my eyes if I look at them, touch them, even just think about them.

I'm so glad you shared this.

Molly

I have every single birthday card they ever gave me... most of them homemade by little hands... thanks, Molly