Haverhill Solo Hours

September 26, 2019.  Periodically, I get lonesome for times, places past.  One such evening, I dug out this poem about just such evenings … and went to work on a collage to capture the primary elements of mini-trampoline, best-ever rocker, parquet floor.  I added a dream catcher to symbolize the only way I can go back.  Haverhill is an extension of West Palm Beach, Florida – where my first husband and I built the house (1970-1973) – where my kids came to be (1974 and 1977) – where the kids and I continued to live after Dad departed in 1979, up until I brought the kids to my origins in Texas (1986).  If I could’ve figured a way to bring that house along to Texas, I would be rocking in it still!

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7 thoughts on “Haverhill Solo Hours

  1. This touched me so deeply, Jazz. I remember those hours before kids woke up, when we could sneak in a private moment – swimming when they were babies and we had a pool, and then later, as a solo parent, walking the park. I, too, loved to dance and can only “dream-dance” now. I related also to the commute time being a quiet meditation – time to get my head straight before transitioning to my next role. What a great snapshot of life – once all consuming, now a memory.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Ah, Betty, good to know my guy has company … refusal to dance might’ve been a big deal in younger years (before I met him), but truly these days (these legs!) are more relaxed dancing solo.

      Liked by 1 person

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