To The Past

Not a day goes by I don't remember,
Especially in this bleakest week of December,
How loved I once was.

Those times are long gone
With him whom I used to be.
Experience made me strong,
But it has always been love which sets me free.

I was a young lad from Mid-America
Raised with respect on a farm,
And taught wrong from right by Grandma and Pa.
They nurtured and protected me from all harm.

No matter what mistakes I made
Nor what uncomfortable bed I lay,
I will always know I was loved.

Everyone complains their childhood was rough,
And I guess, at times, mine was too.
In some way, shape or form we all have it tough,
But friends and family unity will pull you through.

I will always remember fondly growing up country
Down in the Missouri Bootheel.
The farm will always be home base to me
Jogging memories no one can steal.

I am reminded by the nip in the air
Of distant winters,
Cozy on my pallet watching three-channel TV
While Pa feeds fuel on the fire's dying embers,
Grandma in her recliner, "Edgar, let it be!"

We'd go sledding when the weather was just right,
Gliding down slopes Heaven painted winter-white.
My cousins and I relished the rides
And fought with snow before warming our bones inside.

I remember so many things:
Sassafras tea, potato soup and deer meat.
I remember love without strings
And feeling absolutely complete.

With the words I have written
I want to help others recall
The good times when they need them most.
These are people and things I won't be forgetting:
Airshows, fishing, and yardsaling with Grandma.
"To the past," I shall proclaim my new year's toast.

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