“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” – Joan Didion
I step outside around dusk my mood instantly changes the crisp in the air causes my body to perk up autumn is here! autumn is here! my favorite time of the year I relish in this feeling as the sun continues to drop in the sky behind the building I see the colors over the roof and feel a bliss I can only explain as genuine joy the heat is gone the cold has yet to arrive
I watched all summer long the vines from the plant outside my window move from one side to the other as it grew over the months. The end of summer is here and I find myself adjusting back to my routine after time spent with family. It's a bit jarring and relieving to return back to only me once more. How easy it is to fit into the mold of other people's thoughts. I am quiet when I am alone, pulling apart what is my idea from those I had been around. Their words appear in my brain like a bad memory, embarrassed by my tone but grateful to be able to grow.
In 2015, I wrote Grammie a poem for her 84th birthday. When she read it, she loved it. She asked me to read it at her funeral. She even kept a copy of it in her most important files for many years. At her graveside memorial on September 8, 2023, I read this poem. It was emotional but it was the perfect way to honor her memory.
Love you forever, Grammie.
Her brown eyes shine lighting up when she remembers little moments from her past The love for her husband never faded he continues to walk with her after he passed for his soul never left her side His chair sits next to hers in the living room facing the television looking out windows onto the busy road Her children are grown have kids of their own generations continue to grow and flourish Time has flown by over fifty years she has lived in their home Flower wallpaper guides her up the stairs memories fly by filled with laughter from her children all the way down to her great grandkids A missing spindle in the banister holds a memory that turned out well but will never be forgotten Not afraid to speak her mind or share the wisdom of what she's learned over the last 84 years quoting Shakespeare never missing a word from a line of a rose Yet she continues to to let life surprise her in unexpected ways marveling at each day as though it's all brand new Her soul is beautiful as well as the woman I admire and love so
First long walk since having covid, there were many moments while walking where I wondered why I was doing this. It was much more difficult than when I had walked this road earlier in the summer. But I pushed on regardless of wanting to stop and be done. I literally couldn’t, I was so far from my car I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I met resistance to Walking with kindness, I slowed my pace. I showed my body kindness as it tried so hard to stop. I let myself take photos of flowers and views because it makes me happy. I paused to breathe near the end because I felt winded.
Laughter fills the night As I say goodbye to my twenties Stars barely visible behind the clouds Should have been raining by now And yet it was nice enough to have a fire Then stand out on the dock Reflecting on the day we had The weather stayed nice for longer Than the weatherman said Feeling grateful for this moment More than ready to begin my next decade Anticipating where life could take me
A wise woman once told me It doesn’t matter how old you are All that matters is how you feel. I have been reading my old journals lately. I am not who I used to be But the memories remain on The surface of my being. I had a lot of strong feelings. I love reading the passion I had for the Ordinary, unextraordinary moments. I spent a lot of this decade grappling With who I was as a teen and how Those defining years shaped me into who I am now. All the good, the bad, The no good, very bad moments Explored in messy handwriting. I don’t feel the way I did In my early or even mid-twenties. But I do at the same time too. I thought 30 was going to feel older Than is does. I have heard many different stories From people who have entered their 30s About how they felt about closing one Decade and starting the next. Some felt a lot of anxiety or panic, Feeling like they’re not where they thought They would be. Others felt the weight of Pressure from their 20s lift off of them Once they hit 30. They learned to care more For themselves and less for other people. Some felt totally the same, Just more settled in who they are As humans. I am a mix of all these Feelings, all of these big emotions.
I soak up the sun on a Saturday morning getting lost in my book as cars continue to make noise as they drive by, I tune out the loud sounds of the street. After several attempts due to my lack of reading interest, I finally found a spot where I can sit back and read, the story I went to New York for. There are so many lines I underline with my pen they remain in my head going inside someone else’s brain to understand my own patterns the power of words on a page I sit there for an hour and a half as people come and go.
Walking down the street the magic of summer fills the city enlightens my soul I feel the breeze hit my skin as I take the long walk down to the park I got nothing but time on this gorgeous morning in July every flower I see brings me joy walking down new streets I wander around a bookstore completely at peace my happy place amongst strangers enjoying the power of the written word.
Arriving at the museum two hours before they closed on a Saturday night was less than ideal. It was jammed packed with people who loved to stand right in the middle of doorways or breathe too closely on the paintings. I had no other choice, I was only in the city for 48 hours. This was the only time I could go. I squeezed by groups of people from other counties and parents trying their hardest to entertain their tired children. The MoMA, my favorite museum. I love the galleries on the 4th and 5th floors, I could wander around all day if I had the time. But the clock was ticking and a weather warning for an impending storm sped my pace. I wanted to meditate in from of Monet's Water Lilies and admire Frida Kahlo's work. I was on a mission to find these artworks first, everything else could be seen after. I found Monet's paintings in a cold crowded room in a corner of the 5th floor gallery. The happiness was bursting from me when I saw it from the corner of my eye. I found a seat and admired the painting. The texture from his brush soothes my soul in an unexplainable way. Sitting there, I realized there are two types of people at a museum -- the ones who admire the art and the ones who photograph the art. I had spent the previous 25 minutes photographing paintings that captured my attention as I rushed by them. I must have looked like a mad woman. But I didn't care, I was in front of the painting I wanted to see. A painting that somehow calms me down the more I look at it. Except, the small room it was in kept on crowding in. I am not usually one to feel claustrophobic but the air felt heavy in such a cold room due to the number of bodies. The painting takes up three walls and there was always someone trying to get a photo. I snapped a few myself before sitting in another seat, thinking a different angle would help my discomfort. I sat near the entrance where people crowded. Restlessness took over and too soon I was off to find Frida's work. After some more wandering, I found a painting I was familiar with. Frida sitting in a chair with a shaved head, long hair covering the floor and music notes above her. I smile. This was the painting printed on my first ticket to the MoMA back in 2017. Good memories inhabit this painting for me. I feel at ease as my urgency faded. I saw what I needed to see. I wandered the gallery at a slower pace. Seeing more familiar works that had always been here mixed in with new pieces that had been added since the 5 years I was last here. Circling the corner, I was about to leave when I see another Frida painting, one I was unfamiliar with. Frida with a baby monkey stare at me. I smile bigger, the joys of unexpected sights left me breathless. It's the little things in life that bring me the most joy. Discovering something new from one of my favorite painters made my day. The little monkey's eyes warmed my soul. For a moment, I forgot I had anywhere to go.
My summers were filled with The light of your house, The sound of your voice, The smell of your cookies, The familiar rooms I always returned to. When my year was always different, You were always there to welcome us home, Our home away from home. I loved watching You tend to your flowers as my sister and I ran through the clothes hanging on the line To dry in the cool morning breeze. You passed your love of words Down to my mother and then me. Together, we would wander the shelves At the library then spend the afternoon Being entertained by books As we sat in the living room, Watching the rain fall outside. We would watch movies and Game shows after dinner. Your cat who was scared Of us would cautiously enter The room and make her way To your lap. I could hear her purr, Happy at home in your presence.
Kelly Severseike 