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October 30, 2005



She looks so beautiful! Happy Halloween to you all ~ enjoy the day!tina

Becca - momofnataliebear

Just beautiful....the poem and the picture. Thinking of you today...


Oh Moreena, how poignant and beautiful. Anni is so lovely.


Hey, I left a comment here a few hours ago but now it's gone. Grrrr.That poem is beautiful and terrible--thank you for posting it, even if the last few stanzas left me gasping for breath. I haven't faced that kind of tangible fear for my child that you have, but I think any parent recognizes some sense of that poignancy. This poem conveys this dread in terms that aren't exactly specific but are nonetheless sharply focused.

Phantom Scribbler

Haunting -- both the poem, and the picture of Anni.


She is so beautiful.Thinking of you.


Scrivener - I do suspect something is up again with Blogger comments. I've not been getting any emails when comments are added. Also, my gmail account (also owned by google) has been unbearably slow. So perhaps something is up over there at the internet behemoth.


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Oh, and I edited this post a bit to try to make my reaction a bit more clear. I suppose that it is tinged with that fear of losing Annika in the literal sense, but there is also just that Every Parent sadness at knowing that they are moving away from you inevitably as they grow older. I used to look at Annika the baby and think, "If only I knew what was going on in your head, little one! Talk to me!" Now she talks, prolifically and apparently unedited, and I am often even more bewildered than I was in those days of silence. (Although I should add that I am grateful for that communication. I read the journals of parents of mostly non-verbal children, and , and that struggle is heartbreakingly difficult).


That last comment was supposed to have Trisha and Rob listed as the two names for the links, but evidently Blogger is not fond of my html today. The two links work, though.

Yankee T

I love this poem, Moreena, thank you for posting it. And I felt huge heart pangs for my own kids as I read it. The time goes too fast. They grow up while you're sleeping. Treasure each young moment with your girls, and rest assured-they can be wonderful as teenagers, too.


Thanks for that, Morrena. That means so much to me. I feel understood. Thank you.


lovely. yay new yorker poems.

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Falling Down, November 2004

  • Balloon in hand, my 4-year-old
    twirled across the kitchen floor,
    singing nonsense words
    in her own key.
    "It's my gift!" she declared
    to the world at large, which
    was really only me,
    sitting at the table. Enough
    twirling, and she lost
    her balance, tumbling
    to the floor in a theatrical
    slapstick of elbows and knees.

    She lay on her back
    for a few seconds,
    at the textured ceiling
    with the mysterious
    spaghetti sauce stain.
    Suddenly she
    flapping her arms and legs
    there on the floor, as if to swish
    the imaginary snow
    into a snow angel.

    "Falling down is also a gift!" says she.

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