Wednesday, February 17, 2010

poem due thursday, february 18

I will admit nothing about the waters around me.

I.

1. March 1970. New country. New state. New city. New house. New life.
2. My grandmother had moved from England, her home.
3. The unfamiliar sights and sounds of Huntington Beach surrounded her.
4. She had two daughters.
5. Would they remember England as their home?
6. Or would the crowded beaches and shopping malls of this state be home to them?
7. This change had been necessary, but not necessarily easy.
8. No one likes to lose their home.

II.

1. August 2009. College. Real life. Are you excited? Yes! (no).
2. A room where a house used to be. A campus where a town used to be.
3. At first, nervous, but hopeful. Mostly.
4. Later, the discomfort sets in. The unfamiliar is not exciting anymore.
5. The unknown magnifies loneliness to an alarming degree.
6. How is college going for you? It’s good. (why am I lying?)
7. Slowly, the acceptance. And then, reluctantly, happiness peeks through the clouds.
8. Change isn’t easy. But it is real.

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