Saturday, February 20, 2010

Erin Foxworthy - Guest author

The following is a poem written by my incredibly talented niece, Erin Foxworthy. I loved this. Hope you do, too.


I am from eagerly shredding wrapping paper and exclaiming “wow!”
From smacking Austin with a spoon, “bonk-a-head!”
From drenched Barbies and Kens and “snug as a bug in a rug!”
And from pretending to like soda.

I am from constructing a dog food trail for Penny and attempting to climb into Lala’s bed.
From an overflowing beanie-baby crib and green, striped wallpaper.
From flying the rocket, rowing the canoe and the Chocolate Vanilla and Strawberry Pharmacy.
And from sitting through too many bar mitzvahs.

I am from Sugarloaf Mountain and kissing captured fish.
From too many clementines and homemade matzo ball soup.
From illuminating menorahs and discarding Santa’s surplus milk.
And from being ravenous on the bus with Miranda after morning kindergarten.

I am from pinched cheeks, bitten hands and “shaineh maideleh”.
From singing solos and cradling Aunt Berta’s space shuttle tile.
From a kosher Thanksgiving and ham at Christmas.
And from fancying to walk Caity’s beagle, Daisy, and endeavoring for my own dog.

I am from horror movies with Victoria and the “octapedes”,
From “fishy crackers” and baking the “next batch”.
From feigning a run away from home.
And from the frigid shower in the cabin, snow tubing with some friends.

I am from “Erin turns” and “Emily stops” and plummeting off my horse.
From big, yellow safety glasses, “pull”, and bruises from the recoil.
From long-winded biking face-offs and neighborhood rivalry cook-offs.
And from recalling lines from movies, word for word.

I am from the summer block party and the winter progressive dinner.
From the convoy dog walks and adventures to Hershey Park.
From driving dad’s big, white pick-up and stalling mom’s manual Audi.
And from antiquing in downtown shops.

I am from an unorganized tea cabinet; sipping hot tea on the front porch.
From portraying a big sister for Ali and Andrew, striving to learn some Thai from Ann.
From strolling with Oliver, my white Westie, and cooking more than my parents.
And from a family of friends that I hope to always possess.

I am from these memories, and they are from me.
I am a time capsule, a documentary.
I am from the past, present and future
And from the ever repetitive rhythm of history.

Joan here. Thanks for reading. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more in the future from Erin. By the way, the Austin she refers to is my son.


Pamela Hammonds said...

I loved!!! this poem. So fresh and real. What a great tribute to a young life and insight into an incredible young woman. The writing thing must be genetic. ♥

Joan Mora said...

So glad you liked it, Pamela!