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The tiny shard of rational thought I had left yesterday while D1 wasn’t feeling well was right, and I should’ve listened to it, honored it more, expanded it more. She jumped right up out of bed all bubbly and ready to get back to school. So I have an unexpected afternoon off. It is proving lovely.

I got an email from my Grandma today, thanking me for her poem. Yes, my Grandma emails, and so does Grandpa, and it is a blessing. In it, she stated “I”ve put this off too long, Thank you so much for the lovely tribute! I love your word usage, of course being poetic they resonate your feelings well. Had I seen this when you were home I could have given you the big hug I would love to give you.  I forwarded the poem to my bro Wayne and he said “what a compliment”.i feel that too and much more. Loved the way you spelled my name because I’ve said many times that I wished my name had been spelled that way. Also for you to know for family history, my Mom was killed 4 days before I was one. It’s truly amazing my family was able and wanted to keep us together in spite of people wanting to adopt a few of us and I spite of having to go on welfare to be able to keep us. I’ve been told by several sisters that a millionaire wanted to “buy” me, had my family eluded to that they would have been well off, but lucky for me they chose LOVE over money.”

*Note the fact that my Grandma typed the phrase “my bro Wayne”. Just note it.

So, this was the day I learned that in the 1930s a MILLIONAIRE TRIED TO BUY MY GRANDMA. Was this a thing? Were there millionaires in the thirties just flitting about, trying to buy children? I began a google search on it today, one that probably, certainly landed me on some kind of NSA list of people researching the purchase of children, but I quit it once I realized that fact.

I can’t possibly poem about anything else today. What if they had done it? I wouldn’t have learned anything about the power of prayer and hard work if she hadn’t taught it to my mother, who taught it to me, without her experiences in such a vast and loving family.

These are the Bonds

The bonds, the bonds of dust and prairie, the slipshod socks of dust and time, this is the dust that binds us near, and here we are in the land of winter wheat and low sunlight, here we are in the breast of the continent, here we breathe in this land that binds us tight.

Time here is different for a laboring woman, different for a woman clutching everything close in the dust, and it stretches wide for a birth regardless of eras or economics. The sixteenth out of all the many, and thus up for grabs by offer of spineless barons, so pretty dressed in ribbons, how I bend in sigh of you who chose love over money.

Here you came issuing upon us, for how could you know the issue, at babehood, how could you know, that you came for upon the plainland, to grow in great joy, and share it with us, the nearest children to the voice of the chickadee, and what if the money won, in that brief moment? We would not exist.

These are the bonds and fibers: family and love, first and always, plus the strings that are roots now,

binding us to earth. There they are.

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