Happy Thought

The older I get, and the older my mom gets, the more alike we become.  It’s a beautiful reality.  Growing up, my Mom’s favorite color was yellow.  I didn’t understand that as a child when there were so many other great colors to have as a favorite.  In my twenties, somehow, yellow had become my favorite color. 

Eyes Wide Open

Mom’s ability to find beauty in the natural world is second to none.  Her eyes are always open. This year she has about 5 or 6 amaryllis plants in cute pots in her kitchen window.  She measures them every day and is both delighted and astonished by their progress.  She writes it all down on a yellow sticky note.

I don’t know anyone else who, as an adult, drives to construction sites and eagerly watches the progress unfold for the fun of it.   Every day is an adventure for her, and she has taught me well.

When I was a child, my Grandmother had a little bookshelf of old kids’ books for us grandkids.  There was one book in particular, poetry, of course, that I read nearly every time I was over there.  It was my intent for today’s post, to share that poem.  But as I was thinking about it, another poem kept coming to my mind. 

A Poem By Robert Louis Stevenson

Happy Thought
The world is so full
of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all
be as happy as kings.

As I was flipping through my book to look for my favorite poem to share, I passed Happy Thought.  “Susan” was written in purple crayon at the top of the page in child’s print.  No wonder I was thinking of that poem.  My Mom used to quote it to us all the time.  It makes absolute sense to me that, in looking in a book for my favorite childhood poem, I found my Mom’s.

So, I guess the truth is, Mom and I have always been alike.  It’s just taken me all this time to realize it.

My Favorite Childhood Poem

The Butterbean Tent:
All through the garden I went and went,
And I walked in under the butterbean tent.
The poles leaned up like a good tepee
And made a nice little house for me.
I had a hard brown clod for a seat,
And all outside was a cool green street.
A little green worm and a butterfly
And a cricket-like thing that could hop went by.
Hidden away there were flocks and flocks
Of bugs that could go like little clocks.
Such a good day it was when I spent
A long, long while in the butterbean tent.
Elizabeth Madox Roberts

If you are delighted by bugs and construction sites and poetry, if you crave connections that make you feel whole, let’s be friends~