Her Smiling Eyes

Sunday, February 13, 2005

No matter how much she may drive me crazy, I love my ma. And it is very reassuring to know that no matter how much I drive her crazy, she loves me just the same.

My mother was really upset on Saturday. I wasn't really sure why due to the fact I was sleeping during all the arguing and so on. But when I realized how she was upset after seeing her, I simply told her that I love her very, very much. I said nothing more- not only because I was on my way out, but because I had no room to say anything being as I didn't know what was going on.

She has this way into getting sucked into all the negativity in life. She will just get herself all worked up and just swim in it rather than try to out of it. She knows I love her more than life itself, but she can easily forget in this routine of living...just as when you are sad, it is easy forget what it was like to be happy. Sometimes you just need to be reminded. And I made sure to do just that.

I have no problem reminding those I love these things. And my mother of all people...I would learn sign language if ever she lost her hearing, just so that I could sign the words to show her how much she means to me.

Off the subject a bit (but it will all tie up in the end)-
I am writing a little biography on myself for our Poem Anthology project. I had a poem I wrote about how I was frusterated with my parents and it fit in well with our theme of adolescence. So I included it with my assignment of finding 3 poems because it's much easier to only have to write one biography on a stranger and then the other on yourself, the one person you know best. Yes, I used my wit to make things easier for me lol.

But anyway, I am writing it right now. I am typing about when I first started writing and I am remembering all these things. I think back to when that actually was, and I literally was writing avidly since I learned how. All these memories are flooding back to when I was first learning how to write and what I was writing about. It was all so simple then, I mean I would carry around a little notepad and just write about things I saw.

Then I remembered the very first poem I wrote. I learned how to write poems from the basic structure of "Roses are red, violets are blue..." but of course I didn't know that...I was just mimicking it. But my very first poem was called "You've got pretty eyes" and I wrote it for my mom because she has always been very self-conscious about her looks. She had to have a lot of surgery on her face because she was born with tumors and she has scars. I remember understanding her at such a young age, I remember understanding exactly how she felt about her scars as if I had them myself. Even at that age, I knew that her scars made her feel less pretty than she really is. But in all actuallity, she is beautiful- not just pretty. And her scars are only little mended cracks from where the beauty tried to break through.

And I always thought, "If only she could understand this...if only she realized how beautiful she truly is despite those scars." Of course, I was thinking much more basic thoughts back then (I was about five or so).

Then I came up with the poem, in hopes she would realize these things. I don't know where she has it but remember I would sing it to her whenever she needed to feel pretty. I don't remember all of it but I remember the very beginning. Take in to consideration that I was five and very simple thought-wise.

You've got pretty eyes
You've got pretty eyes
You've got a pretty nose
You've got pretty teeth
You've got pretty toes

That's all I can remember. I would just go on...trying to make everything rhyme and hope that maybe she will smile with at least a little more understanding. And she would smile, acknowledging this beauty within her. I would feel just as beautiful simply knowing that she liked my poem.

Even now, I feel pretty knowing that she passed on some of her beauty to me. Despite the scars and the rough surfaces of the skin, I know that our beauty comes straight from our hearts. My mother has the most beautiful heart I know.

I let her read what I have so far in my biography. And she got to the very last line I had typed so far which was "Her very first poem was called “You’ve got pretty eyes” and it was written to " because I wasnt finished typing it. But I was able to recognized that beauty again as we both acknowledged that it was written to her. It is the most wonderful thing to look in someone elses eyes and have this understanding and this well kept memory to share.

She asked me if I remembered how I would sing it to her and I said of course. I couldnt forget.

I don't know. Out of all the hullabulloo this weekend (homework, responsibilities, stress, repeat), that was a really nice moment. I had to stop everything just to capture it in here but it was well worth it.

Love to all and then some

Jenny at 10:04 PM

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her smiling eyes
this is your cue. smile.
Sunday, February 13, 2005 No matter how much she may drive me crazy, I love my ma. And it is very reassuring to know that no matter how much I drive her crazy, she loves me just the same. My mother was really upset on Saturday. I wasn't really sure why due to the fact I was sleeping during all the arguing and so on. But when I realized how she was upset after seeing her, I simply told her that I love her very, very much. I said nothing more- not only because I was on my way out, but because I had no room to say anything being as I didn't know what was going on. She has this way into getting sucked into all the negativity in life. She will just get herself all worked up and just swim in it rather than try to out of it. She knows I love her more than life itself, but she can easily forget in this routine of living...just as when you are sad, it is easy forget what it was like to be happy. Sometimes you just need to be reminded. And I made sure to do just that. I have no problem reminding those I love these things. And my mother of all people...I would learn sign language if ever she lost her hearing, just so that I could sign the words to show her how much she means to me. Off the subject a bit (but it will all tie up in the end)- I am writing a little biography on myself for our Poem Anthology project. I had a poem I wrote about how I was frusterated with my parents and it fit in well with our theme of adolescence. So I included it with my assignment of finding 3 poems because it's much easier to only have to write one biography on a stranger and then the other on yourself, the one person you know best. Yes, I used my wit to make things easier for me lol. But anyway, I am writing it right now. I am typing about when I first started writing and I am remembering all these things. I think back to when that actually was, and I literally was writing avidly since I learned how. All these memories are flooding back to when I was first learning how to write and what I was writing about. It was all so simple then, I mean I would carry around a little notepad and just write about things I saw. Then I remembered the very first poem I wrote. I learned how to write poems from the basic structure of "Roses are red, violets are blue..." but of course I didn't know that...I was just mimicking it. But my very first poem was called "You've got pretty eyes" and I wrote it for my mom because she has always been very self-conscious about her looks. She had to have a lot of surgery on her face because she was born with tumors and she has scars. I remember understanding her at such a young age, I remember understanding exactly how she felt about her scars as if I had them myself. Even at that age, I knew that her scars made her feel less pretty than she really is. But in all actuallity, she is beautiful- not just pretty. And her scars are only little mended cracks from where the beauty tried to break through. And I always thought, "If only she could understand this...if only she realized how beautiful she truly is despite those scars." Of course, I was thinking much more basic thoughts back then (I was about five or so). Then I came up with the poem, in hopes she would realize these things. I don't know where she has it but remember I would sing it to her whenever she needed to feel pretty. I don't remember all of it but I remember the very beginning. Take in to consideration that I was five and very simple thought-wise. You've got pretty eyes You've got pretty eyes You've got a pretty nose You've got pretty teeth You've got pretty toes That's all I can remember. I would just go on...trying to make everything rhyme and hope that maybe she will smile with at least a little more understanding. And she would smile, acknowledging this beauty within her. I would feel just as beautiful simply knowing that she liked my poem. Even now, I feel pretty knowing that she passed on some of her beauty to me. Despite the scars and the rough surfaces of the skin, I know that our beauty comes straight from our hearts. My mother has the most beautiful heart I know. I let her read what I have so far in my biography. And she got to the very last line I had typed so far which was "Her very first poem was called “You’ve got pretty eyes” and it was written to " because I wasnt finished typing it. But I was able to recognized that beauty again as we both acknowledged that it was written to her. It is the most wonderful thing to look in someone elses eyes and have this understanding and this well kept memory to share. She asked me if I remembered how I would sing it to her and I said of course. I couldnt forget. I don't know. Out of all the hullabulloo this weekend (homework, responsibilities, stress, repeat), that was a really nice moment. I had to stop everything just to capture it in here but it was well worth it. Love to all and then some Jenny at 10:04 PM Comments: Post a Comment
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