The scent of jasmine on the trail
brings me back to the window seat
in my bedroom on Napoli Drive.
It’s funny how nostalgia creeps in
just when I need most to remember.
Sitting on the front porch with Dad
and picking strawberries
for our homemade ice cream.
A little boy who brought me a flower
on the day of our grandpa’s funeral.
Making a waterslide with a garden hose
and an inflatable pool,
then sending my sister down to test it.
Taking batting practice
with tennis balls and seeing how many
we could hit over the roof.
Putting on shows with friends
to the soundtracks
of Cats and Starlight Express.
I know it wasn’t all the stuff
of sitcoms and musicals,
but that’s not how my memory works.
The memories smell sweet today,
just like the jasmine.
I came across this video I recorded of myself reading "Jasmine" in April of 2020. You can watch or listen here.
This week, I made an offhand comment to friends in an email about wanting to fill someone's joy basket. One person wrote back and said, "Joy baskets sound glorious!" Another friend asked what I was doing to fill my own joy basket. A third wondered how she could help fill my joy basket. The responses made me pause. What, exactly, had I meant when I used that phrase?
This poem brings to mind the importance of having reservoirs of delight to call on later and made me wonder about the possibility of intentionally creating those wellsprings. I’m playing with this idea of joy baskets and will share more next week. In the meantime, I wish you a week of sweet moments and fond memories.