Last year's leaves slime the sidewalk,
As she carefully picks her way,
Past puddles and sodden debris.
The baby's blanket makes trails,
Through wintered gravelly mud.
The stroller wheels catch and drag.
Her son's face shines with sunlight,
Her shoulders are warmed by it's rays,
A smile settles her weary face.
Boxes and bags forgotten
They laugh at crow's strange walking
Picking its way past puddled dirt.
Later he'll point to his paints
Tell the tale with coloured fingers
She stores the blanket and moment
This is the tale of my first day in Corner Brook. It was early February but unseasonaly warm. Tired by the packing and unpacking and needing a few little items for the house we were staying in I packed Harrison in his stroller and we waddled our way downtown (I was 6 months pregnant at the time).
I was sad to leave our previous home and our house. We were in a temporary lease until we could find something. But I was looking forward to the promises of a new environment as well. The day seemed to reflect my mood, not-winter-not-spring.
When we got back to our house, Harrison created these paintings:
One, full of colour - and what looks like a crow seems to reflect the joy and promise of the day. The other is dark and smeary - like the sidewalks that day, like the future ahead of us, like the feelings about our leavetalking.
Coincidentally, the picture also happens to be the 10th in my oldest folder. Therefore this post is for Josie's Writing Workshop, Tara's Gallery, and fulfills the photo meme Paula tagged me with. Talk about something being imbued with more than one meaning!