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© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

 

Growing up in a family who sat outside of society but holding on to its norms, some good-be polite, work hard, do well in school, some not so good-racism, blind support for war and the military and in general, don’t speak out against the government, I stood apart from society and from them. I questioned (and I stll do). I questioned the war, I questioned the the treatment of women, I questioned racism and a bunch of other isms. I questioned words of the Sunday school teachers and the ministers. I questioned the treatment of the earth. For that time, I was an outlier, an anomaly on the graph, outside the line.  Now there are so many points outside the line. And there are points still where the line used to be, congregated, dark, thick, and intense. Where do we draw the line? Do we draw lines? At some “point” do we stand back, squint our eyes, look at the graph and maybe, just maybe conclude we are one big point of humanity and life with the earth, connected in ways we may never see.  It is an experiment worth considering.

 

 Outliers

 
The outlier may be an indication that some unknown process is at work and should be closely examined. Many scientific dicoveries have been made by investigating data that does not fit the pattern.

The outlier may be an indication that some unknown process is at work and should be closely examined. Many scientific dicoveries have been made by investigating data that does not fit the pattern.

 
A panoply of                            
 
Anomaly. Who is “you”
 
 
And who, who is “me”?
 
 

 

 

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

SSIDD aka SSB Drever aka Sadie Stella Bella and I were walking around Jewel Square and Golden Heights  before stopping in at The Teal Mango for coffee and a chat with Maddie. It was a misty April day and this series of haikus are the fruit of it.

April Day

lavere-hutchings-down-pour

 
Peach Tree Debutante,
Blossoms demure pink slippers.
Gaudy tulips flaunt.
 
Red buds whispering.
Quiet violets repose
Amid moss settees
 
Gray watering sky.
The gently tapping raindrops
Calm my harried thoughts.
 
                                         Down Pour by LaVere Hutchings
© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

 

The SSB Drever and I came upon these clumps of ornamental grasses on our walk the other day. The sunlight gilding the remnants of a previous season-beautifull! And we were there in that sunlit moment.

 

 The Oneness of Now

 
Dried Grasses in Spring Sunlight by Jo Hewitt

Dried Grasses in Spring Sunlight by Jo Hewitt

 
Grasses from the past
 
 
Wave to the future spring sun.
 
 
In Now all is one.
 
 

 

 

March Observation.

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

 

I took the SSB Drever for a short walk while it was warm and there was daylight. A pair of sandals and a paradox or two.

 

 

 March Observation

 
Ice Patch Melting in March Sun by Jo Hewitt

Ice Patch Melting in March Sun by Jo Hewitt

Scarf around my neck.
 
 
Sandals on my feet.
 
 
Sixty two degrees.
 
 
Walking around an old ice sheet.
 
 
Remnants of February
 
 
But it feels like May.
 
 
Must be March,
 
 
Wouldn’t you say?
 

 

 

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

 

March 8th was the second anniversary of my mother’s death.  I was with her the last days of dying before the final breath, It was a painful death. My memories of her and the parts of our journeys in our lives that over-lapped are a mix of joy and pain. March is 8th is painful.

Less time this year was spent in tears. Much more of it in joy. I spent the day at my daughter’s house with her and her two children -Asher almost 4 and Parisa who just turned 2. We were continuing with part 2 of our gingerbread train project. The goal is to have this finished by Asher’s 4th birthday. There is not much time left.

I had a wonderful day, a joyful day. And any day I think of those two little people, I cannot help but smile. I want as many happy memories as I can get and as many as I can help plant for my grandchildren. I want to be a part of making their childhood better than my own and better than I could give my own children.

Memories-part of the connection between the generations. They are an intricately knotted cord of the macrame of the DNA of our lives holding us as we, our souls, hang in, hovering in this realm. They connect us to those who have returned to the spiritual world and those yet to come.

I planted seeds of gingerbread, of hugs and kisses, of play and laughter for myself and hopefully for them. And maybe, it will be a link between my mother and my grandchildren.

 

Planting Seeds, Planting Memories

 

dahliaGardens.jpg.

 
Memories. I know   
 
I want, need to plant seeds.                  
 
New memories grow.

 

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

 

Our roles change as we go through life. We are cast in different parts along the way. Child-parent-grandparent-a common succession for many. One part is the understudy for the next. We are always standing in the wings, watching, listening, learning our craft as human beings, preparing for the next role. Some transitions are smoother than others. No longer child or even parent-I am the grandparent. With my mother’s death two years ago this month, I am the oldest generation in the play of my life.

The final act is where it all comes together. Everyday I head out on that stage and try my best to give a good performance. Most of it improvisational. I haven’t played this role before and I didn’t have so many others around to study. I’ll do my best to keep the audience in stitches, laughing- and thinking, all of us searching for a better version of ourselves- before the curtain comes down on the final, final act, the final bow.

 

Replacement Parts

  
 
Young Mother Sewing by Mary Cassatt

Young Mother Sewing by Mary Cassatt

Child to parent, 
 
Grand apparent it’s time- 
 
Move! head of the line.

 

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

 
This is a song about a topic very near and dear to toddlers and preschoolers, actually something they are very engrossed in.  We have all been there. Many of us have helped our children through this and perhaps helped grandchildren, and if we live long enough, we may very well be back there in the end. To celebrate a joyous time of development and life-here it is-the potty song!

 

The Potty Song

 

 

I gotta pee.

I gotta pee!77af68ef0fa48ac1b93d2303c6aaa786.jpg

I can do it myself.

You just wait and see.

I gotta pee!

Ah Oh.

I gotta poop.

I gotta poop!

I gotta plop some goop

On the porcelain stoop.

I gotta poop!

Ah Oh.

I gotta wipe.

I gotta wipe!

I gonna need some help

With the cleaning swipe.0

I gotta wipe!                   

Ah Oh!

Potty-

Poop and pee.

Mommy, Daddy

Oh come help me

Please!

HELP MEEEEE!

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