Tom Thumb's Thumb
by: Billy Collins
was so small
it failed to get the attention
of passing cars and trucks.
And what was he doing
out there anyway,
hitchhiking all by himself?
There's something almost paternal in this poem, Billy Collins worrying about Tom Thumb's fate at the hands of strangers. Another way of phrasing his question is, "Where the hell were his parents?"
We live in a world where children are exposed to adult situations and problems at younger and younger ages. My son and daughter know a lot more about this weird world than I did at their ages. My biggest worry when I was a kid was whether or not I had collected the entire series of bubblegum Star Wars trading cards. In summer, I could disappear from the house after breakfast and not come back until dusk, and nobody worried about me.
I never really appreciated the breadth of freedom I had when I was younger. It was only when I started working, bought a house and car, became a husband and father that I developed nostalgia for those long July days filled with the buzz saw of insects.
But that's the truth about any life experience. It's only in memory that it becomes poignant and wonderful Childhood (for most people) takes on the gold tint of a daguerreotype.
I've been thinking a lot about my kids today. (I use the term "kids," even though my daughter is 24 years old and my son is 15.) Their young childhoods have taken on the patina of nostalgia for me now. It seems like just yesterday they were staggering around in their diapers. This afternoon, my son found out that he was accepted into middle college for next year. That means, by the time he graduates from high school, he will have earned an associate's degree, with all of his expenses (tuition and books) paid for.
My little boy ain't so little any more.
And Saint Marty couldn't be prouder of him.
Luke S.
by: Martin Achatz
If I was him,
I'd have stayed put,
drank my blue milk,
picked sand out of my ears,
written poems
about twin suns
opening like lizard
eyes on the horizon.
No comments:
Post a Comment