When I was living in Mississippi (M-I-crooked letter, crooked letter-I-crooked letter, crooked letter-I-humpback, humpback, I) I took a creative writing class and we were asked to write a poem about the most precious thing (or person) in our lives. When I wrote this I was married, my husband was serving in the Air Force (away from home about 2/3 of the year on TDY’s) our son was a wee little guy, before kindergarten and we were far, far from home. The only time I’d ever left California and believe me, I was ill prepared for most of it. The classes that I took at Gulf Coast Community College – Jefferson Davis campus were a lifeline to sanity and something to do just for me. This is the poem that I wrote. I’m pretty sure I got an A+ on the assignment. I loved that class and like most teachers, I loved the teacher for this class.
It is a very complex and changing force of energy;
not focused in a single direction for any length of time.
It is as bright as the sunbeams bouncing across the crystal panes of a window.
It is more colorful than the Lord’s finest rainbow, as pure as the driven snow.
It is a giggle, a smile, wrapped up in pure goodness and light;
it is the most precious gift one could ever hope to receive.
It has mischief, mayhem and curiosity unbound.
Excitement so contagious, it spreads like wildfire.
With wide-open, searching, seeing eyes that mirror those of my own.
Whether feeling the way to follow or striking out on a path yet untraveled,
It loves unconditionally, totally and with no reserve.
It is sometimes frustrating, always challenging,
there has never been a dull moment yet.
It is always poised for flight, as if a winged messenger from times long past.
It possesses potential to accomplish all that is sought after,
is hopeful or the future and promise of good things to come.
The most precious thing in my life is my son.