there’s a morse code in the wet spots, left by snowflakes on your face

she slinks through the house,
books & pens under her arm, a stray cat
sans her sister, LOST sign blinking

in her deep brown eyes “mom,
won’t you come with me to the aerobic training?”
(usually they go together) &
we ring her up, early morning, speaker on,
in the half-dark

she sits sleepwarm, silent next to me, face pale,
breathing deep to inhale her scent,
continents away, still lingering &

talks spanish with her Sydney homestay host,
a 70 year old lady from Peru, who prepares her
fresh-pressed apple-carrot juice for breakfast

“i can bike to university”, she says,
“how cool” &

———–there she is,

wind in her hair, that impish smile spreading
from the corners of her eyes, changing color
like a summer lake & how she shook her head
when she got a ticket once for biking freehand–

downhill– &

——the room gets wide–

——————cracks open,

i throw arms

around my little one, it’s snowing and
we lift the face, thick snowflakes land
(helicopters without pilot) on our nose,
& in the car to work, i smile, turn off the wipers
til i’m covered, coVerED up &

just the BLiN–kiNg faces
of a freezing bunch of one-legged traffic lights

———-remind me faintly

——————of the road ahead

.

we’re writing about the Art of Letting Go at dVerse today.. daughter’s doing good, arrived well in Australia and has a great time…so i’m mostly a happy let go-er.. little one is doing good as well again..smiles… see you at 3pm EST in the pub..

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62 responses to “there’s a morse code in the wet spots, left by snowflakes on your face

  1. there are different ways to let go. I really like how you showed you’re own perspective, your daughter’s that is away and your young one. Really nicely done. I loved the mentioning of the I throw arms….to me, this shows something that is both logical and comforting, as two people going through a letting go, comforting themselves together, and as a parent it tells me you are going to hold the young one tighter now, not that you didn’t before, but it’s just natural to cling a little more to what is near when some sort of change takes place. Great write. Look forward to seeing what I can think of for this very open theme. Thanks

  2. You have given your daughter the gift of letting go more than once. I suppose it is inevitable. The title is fantastic! …the poem too my dear.

  3. This is a very touching write. You have kept the balance between ‘letting go’ and keeping the connections. Hard to navigate that path, but you did it. I am sure your younger misses your older, and you are doing well helping her deal with it.

  4. Another amazing poem. The title itself is worth the price of admission. I just had to save the title to my list of favorite quotations. Keep up the great work. I hope you and your family have a fabulous weekend.

  5. smiles…i love how excited you are for her…though even missing her as well…you def sound still connected which is a great thing…and i feel for your other walking around like a lost cat looking for her…smiles….love one legged traffic lights as well…ha…

  6. Glad she is enjoying the land down under and yeah such letting go sure must be rough, but you have the balance down to keep the connection flowing always too.

  7. It brought tears to my eyes, too. Since I have no children, I can’t say I know what you are feeling (exactly) but having dealt with loss and letting go much of my life, I can imagine. Hugs to you.

  8. This is a lovely share ~ Happy to read that your daughter is fine and adjusting to the warmer weather in Australia ~ The weather here is just winter crazy ~ My kids have not been that far away from me, but I find that letting them go/be is easier that I thought ~ Specially for my two older boys, I want them to be independent yet grounded in our values ~

  9. this is beautiful, vivid, immediate – i felt totally included in the story/scene, the lostness of the sister left behind, the phone call & its effect, the giving oneself up to snow as a symbol of letting go…. freshly falling snow is such a lovely thing to lose one’s self in

  10. Oh…what a wonderful and touching verse….I love the interaction between you and your children…the love is transparent in every line…thanks for sharing the family’s warmth.

  11. First thing is that I love, love,love the title of this one Claudia – the morse code! Second thing is I really like how you’ve drawn out the interlinking relationships in the poem. It’s very touching.

  12. Wonderful poem, full of dazzling imagery. I just love the stanza beginning “i throw arms … around my little one” – I can so relate. And the “(helicopters without pilot)” bit is a nice touch.

  13. Wow what a wonderful read! This is such a beautiful way of talking about your emotions of letting go of your daughter. It definitely must be hard for parents. I love how snow lands like a helicopter without a pilot! And the letter play you did with “blinking” 😀

  14. Nice.
    you’ve captured in this piece the ‘essence’ of Letting Go.
    Nice word choices with…
    a stray cat
sans her sister, LOST sign blinking
    in her deep brown eyes

    breathing deep to inhale her scent,
continents away,
    ….
    and then the metaphorical twist w/the comparison of the dangerous bicycling sans hands & the turning off of winshield wipers in a snowstorm in traffic, in effigeal C.o.n.n.e.c.t.i.o.n.

    very good poem, Claudia.

  15. so beautiful. so telling. the relationship is given life in a coles notes version of getting to know how close you are, and how far apart in distance you are.

  16. So happy she arrived safely and seems to be settling in – tough to be the one left behind – I feel for your younger daughter. But before you know it, she will be flying from your nest. Beautiful poem filled with your love. K

  17. A super sweet poem, Claudia, and very vivid and distilled — all the different elements – you use a word or label that almost seems like it arrives by chance, and yet conveys a great deal. Lovely. k.

  18. Love this. Love the term “sleepwarm” although my phone doesn’t seem to want it to stick (auto correct haha) It gives a depth to it, as you always do. A beautiful poem all together

  19. Really lovely story here. I love the forshadowing at the end that the speaker will have to go through this again with her younger daughter. I really enjoyed this topic.

  20. …lately i was drawn by how you weave the cover of your poems… beautiful & interesting… and hey…nice to know she’s arrived well… letting go is always tough but only in the beginning… she’ll do good in university and you’ll be the proudest mum… smiles…

    p.s.. will reply to your email later this eve… smiles…

  21. your mind certainly was not on driving that morning..and I’m guessing the snowflakes helped blot the tears welling up….it sounds like you skyped?? if you can see her that is such a bonus…and about birds leaving the nest…a lady wiser than i told me once that after every storm the birds come out to sing again..no matter what…they should try being human for awhile…or we can something learn from them 😉 have a good rest of the weekend..

  22. My two older daughters are away on holiday on their own for the first time, an adventure together on an island – the pearl of the orient – Penang.

    I feel pitter patter in my heart and have to stop myself from calling every hour.

    I am sure, this poem reflects all your feelings, beautifully too. But the height and lows we go through are oh so terrifying and – wonderful. Bittersweet, indeed.

  23. Ahhh… letting go. I was just talking to someone else the other day about her son going to live in Canada. Do we ever let go, though? Will I, when my time comes?

    I loved your poem because it’s very evocative. It mixes affection with resolution. Many thanks.

    Greetings from London.

  24. Well, it was a magical beach day yesterday so I hope she made it for a swim.
    Today is overcast and threatening to rain….but still nice. All the frangipani and plumbago are out and the sugar bananas, mangoes and avocadoes are cheap. Sydney is a relatively safe city and the natives in the main are friendly enough…tourists should not be put off by the bones through their noses and spears.:)….she will be fine Claudia!

  25. Beautiful and touching. I am not yet in the stage were you are at but I see myself doing as you do – remembering a grown child living her life – in all the things around me. 🙂

  26. she sits sleepwarm, silent next to me, face pale,
    breathing deep to inhale her scent,
    continents away, still lingering…”

    Hi! Claudia…
    I liked the way your poetic words flowed in your poem: there’s a morse code in the wet spots, left by snowflakes on your face as you let go…
    …I’m also happy [to read] that your daughter is enjoying her stay in Australia too!
    Thanks, for sharing!
    deedee 🙂

  27. “downhill– &

    ——the room gets wide–

    ——————cracks open,”

    Love.This.Poem. I feel the holes, the wet spots, the wind, the vacancy, the whole.

  28. So sweet–got a few tears–my oldest is walking around the house with “LOST” blinking on his face too. Love sleepwarm children too 🙂

  29. Oh, this made me cry. My girls are still in grade school. Something so wistful and determined in the tone of this poem showed me the path of motherhood, how now I miss them when they have a sleepover at a friend’s house, and how that same feeling will expand and deepen as they grow up, and eventually, if we’ve done our job, leave the nest. There is no self-pity in your words, still I can feel the pangs, and admire your resolve and your love for your children. Very well done.