My earliest memories include family reunions ... noisy gatherings, it seemed to me, as people hugged, slapped each other on the back, stood around trading stories ... then there was the food, acres of it, it seemed ... and the bees or yellowjackets who always seemed to know where to find us.
I was puzzled in those early years. I couldn't understand how all these people ... most of them absolute strangers to me ... could possibly know each other ... how they could all be part of the same family.
With time and understanding of that came. I also came to know ... and need ... that annual gathering of family ... that renewal of links to others ... the mending of neglected fences ... the promises of "same time next year."
Unfortunately, some were destined not to make it to the next reunion ... but they would be remembered as remaining members of the family gathered once more.
I don't know if family still maintain the "reunion" practice. I hope the do. In my case, though, I've become a dropout, of necessity, since my driving ... all kind of travel, in fact ... is almost entirely local.
But I have my memories of those gatherings ... kept like pressed flowers in the pages of a favorite book. I look at them, one by one, on occasion, and remember ... oh, how I remember ...
The poem:
REUNION
Like worn pieces of a jigsaw puzzle,
we came back together, sliding
into place at that agreed-upon time
in the room provided for us, drawn
by the prospect of a field-hands meal,
the sound of children pattering
and laughing, the clatter and fury
of games, hum of quiet conversations,
memories burnished by renewed handling,
but mostly drawn back to this place
by that strongest pull, family.
It was not as easy as it once was,
this coming back together, but we did
come back from our scattered places
to be near that place where we began
our journeys along a single path,
then diverged as circumstances and
choices led us away, coming back now
to cross paths for this day, at least.
It was a day for remembering those
pieces missing from the puzzle, a day
for savoring the picture we still make
by our presence, a day for a few tears
as we touched scars of old wounds,
a day given over to hugs and handshakes,
welcomings and lingering farewells,
a bittersweet, pressed-flower day,
this coming home, this healing.
©
2005
***
Today's word: remembering
Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Thank you so much, Helen. I'm always pleased to receive an electronic pat on the back, of course ... but I'm doubly rewarded when a reader adds dimension to my posting with comments that serve as a sounding board ... an amplifier ... of the heartbeats of the poem.
2 comments:
This poem about the puzzle pieces really touched my heart...the pieces I'll never put together except on paper. I have nieces and nephews spread out all over way on the other side of the country. This poem makes me thankful that I took a trip to see all I could two years ago. They are very dear to me, also, Canadian cousins, some of whom I've never met and never will. The kind you talk about in your poem will never be again...except, patially in high school reunions...even then...they are fewer and fewer at every reunion--if it's held. Distances seem farther. I guess the moral of my comment is to take advantage of the puzzle and fitting it together while we can. The pieces are lost as time goes on.
Your poem really hit me...made me thankful for keeping in touch with all I could--and closeness I have with the precious few left Not a nostalgic thing, but the computer is a great help in keeping the puzzle together--and finding them. If you haven't used it for the puzzle, you'll be amazed at the joy you give and receive from it.
This poem is so well written--and a theme we don't always think about--and should. It was a good story that could be seen and felt. It I'm sure it affects every reader. What a poem! Bravo, Bob!
I'm having a real nostalgia event tonight. I was sitting here listening to The Front Porch radio show on NPR playing folk songs from the sixties, remembering for the first time in decades the people and places I knew way back when, wondering what became of us all.
Then I clicked in here and found your wonderful poem about reunions, and suddenly all the relatives were here, too. My own family had a reunion once, and it was the only time I ever met many of my aunts, uncles and cousins. My husband's family does reunions every few years, which is rare and wonderful these days. You captured the feel of these get-togethers perfectly, and brought to mine many loved ones from long ago.
Thanks so much for posting this one!
Vicki
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