1967

January 31, 2007

So I think to ask every year.
On or around my birthday.
Tell me about the day I was born.
Was it sunny and bright like today is?
Did the snow sparkle as it lay still on the ground?
Did the wind whip up a bunch of bountiful flakes,
spin them around in a cyclone, and settle them
back down all shaken up? Then wait for a few seconds
before she rearranged them again, like today?
Like she can't decide if they should go in this pile
or maybe next to that one.
Rearranging them until she is satisfied.
Did the chill sneak up behind you and under your coat
as you walked to the car?
Was the sky clear blue with only a fluff of whispy white
cloud here and there?
Crystal white and sky blue.
Its no wonder it's still my favorite combination of all colors
when I look at it.
Calming. Happy. Serene.
First time mom and dad.
First baby.
First sparkle in your eyes.
What was that day like mom?
Smile.
I got a wide grin and a smile. She just smiled.
Dad remembers.
It was two o'clock in the morning.
It was a Monday, I think.
Memories of 40 years ago break through today.