TRACY AT SIX

This is a throwback post from my daughter's childhood......and my poetry writing phase. As I continue to sort through my binders of letters, diary entries and essays that tell the story of my life...I came across the poems I'd written in the late 70's about my kids, family, life and love. This one really grabbed me; Tracy's daughter...my youngest granddaughter...is now six. And not only do I see similarities between these two...I realize that I knew at age six that she would become the strong, creative, confident woman she is today! This is for you Pumpkin!
                                                                                                   
                                                     
       
   Tracy learned to ski today
    So confidently and free.
              I watched her from the window
       And pride began to flow.
      She sang her favorite songs
             As she moved easily along.
Down a little hill; no fall
                  Eyes always to the windowsill
        Making sure Mom saw it all!
       This child of six is mine.
She is growing, changing, running out of time
                     To be my little girl, my little one.
 
Tracy learned to read today,
Such eagerness, such curiosity.
She is our independent one
Full of strength and versatility.
At six she seems so sure, so aware
Of who she is, and why, and where.
She'll not be walked on in life; indeed
Her character is tough...and stubborn as a weed!
What pride and accomplishment she feels
Blending sounds and letters into something real.
Can I still hold this little one upon my lap
To read stories; did I do enough of that?
 
Tracy learned to wait today.
To wait her turn, to share, not hit.
Such hurriedness, such energy, such wit.
"Wait a minute" we always say, but patience
Is unknown
To six year olds who want it now;
A cookie, mom's attention, how to use the phone.
Throw a fit, cry, off to her room
Waiting can be okay she thinks.
As long as it's pretty soon!
I look at this child from us-
Clever, creative, so humorous.
And I really like her; a like as great as love.
My little girl, my daughter, myself.
 
Joan Stommen  1979