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Daughter of Ishmael by Diane Stringam Tolley

Daughter of Ishmael

by Diane Stringam Tolley

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Friday, April 12, 2013

No Empty Nest


Our two youngest, with their families, have moved back in for a while.
I'm cherishing this moment in time . . .

All of this, plus four . . .
The nest was clean
            And tidy, too.
There wasn’t much
            I had to do.
It stayed that way
            From dawn to dawn.
Had been like that
            Since the chicks had gone.

But it hadn’t always
            Been just so,
When chicks would come
            And chicks would go,
When clutter ruled
            When ‘mess’ was norm,
When noise began
            With the dewy morn.

I found myself,
            Each day, awash
In dirty dishes,
            Stinky socks.
Up to my knees
            In diapers, too
When days were full
            And the nest was, too.

When every evening
            Prayers were said,
And kisses, hugs
As they went to bed.
Then flopped, exhausted,
            In the chair,
And contemplated
            Life from there.

And though it seemed
            It’d never end.
Somehow it did,
As all things tend.
And the nest that never
            Took a bow,
Echoed with
            The silence now.

But then, one day
            The door swung wide,
And chicks and chicklets
            Stepped inside.
“We’re here to stay,
            If that’s okay.”
Once more, there’s action
            every day.

Once more I live
            With clutter, there,
And no bare spaces
            Anywhere.
And noise? Whoo-boy!
            You have to know,
That lungs’re the very first
            Things to grow.

The toys are spread
            From here to there.
And chicklets playing
            Everywhere.
And meals to make
            And clothes to mend
And schedules to
Draw and blend.

And, still, with all
            The noise and strain
And problems bouncing
            In my brain,
With things to do,
            And time to share,
And chicklets falling
            Down the stair.

That I would never
            Want at all,
The spotless house,
The quiet halls.
Exchange the action
            That resides
Or change the love
            That dwells inside.

I’ve learned you don’t need
            Silence, no.
When people come
            And people go.
There’s peace in every
            Busy day.
When chicks and chicklets
            Come your way.

With hugs and kisses
            You abound
And love is shining
            All around.
And never can your
            Life be dull,
‘Cause, once again
            The nest is full.

12 comments:

  1. Delightful poetry, marvelous full house!

    How long will they be staying?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Definitely not long enough, Susan. Maybe a year?

      Delete
  2. Happy days for sure. Just remember to make a little time for you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I have all the time in the world between midnight and 4AM!!! But you're right. And I do!

      Delete
  3. You've got quite a brood, mostly living close by. We've got kids and grandkids in Calgary, 2-3 hours away and one in Aztec, NM, 2-3 days away. Not to worry. We get the odd weekend when the grandkids are racing around the house, until the youngest one rams her head into the corner of the kitchen table. Or when we take them to Henderson Park and the youngest one gets tagged (in that same spot) by a flying swing that some show-off kid just launched himself out of.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh the infernal head bumps. I think every child should come equipped with a helmet!

      Delete
  4. It is often more joyous when you know the situation is finite ... enjoy to the fullest while you can!

    Love the term "chicklets" :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Exactly! A time out of time. And I am definitely enjoying!

      Delete
  5. I don't have such a large tribe, but I'm happy when they visit. Even if only one at a time.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's the best part of my day when the chicks come to visit!

      Delete
  6. Oh it much more boisterous when family comes for a short or longer viist, but it is fun to have them around!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The quiet seems that much . . . quieter when they've gone to bed . . .

      Delete

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Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .

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