run on sentences

I love telling my grandsons about the snow in my hometown when I was growing up.  Looking back it seems magical.  The snow, and the room by the stove. The snow was deeper than anywhere I have ever been since or at least that is how I remember it.  My memories are probably better than reality and no doubt exaggerated     I have romanticized winters in my hometown - winters that currently do not exist for me here in Utah or even back in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan where I grew up.   Those winters were long and cold, but always cozy because I was safe in that old house, in the room by the stove.   Safe with my parents, my older sister and younger brother and sometimes baby chickens and a dog and a cat.  Sometimes several cats.  "I walked to school in the snow, sometimes it was 40 below zero and my nose and mouth had to be covered", I tell my grandkids.  "When I breathed in the cold air, my nostrils stuck together.  Then I add for effect "It was uphill both ways.  M

My auntie Caryl died last week.   She was not really my aunt but a cousin by marriage.  Her mom's second marriage was to my dad's older brother.  She decided she was too old to be my cousin and so I always called her auntie Caryl.  She was really everyone's auntie, everyone's mother and everyone's friend.  She was a beautiful person inside and out. Auntie Caryl was a presence in my life for as long as I can remember.   She was my Sunday school teacher and responsible for helping me see the beauty of a church community even though I won't pretend to be anywhere near as devout as she was.   She also was the organist at our beautiful Methodist church in my little home town of Rockland, Michigan as long as I can remember.    She played "Amazing Grace" for my dad's funeral and then later my mom's.   She was a piano teacher for many of the kids in Rockland and the surrounding area.  I wanted to take lessons and my parents couldn't afford it or to

  I wish I could send you the smell Of running in the spring Lilacs , freshly cut grasses in all those places You and I used to run and then walk  Early on Sunday mornings Until you moved and then you fell And couldn't do it any longer at 94 I run by the S curve, the mascara house  And the place you said prostitutes probably lived Familiar places we ran by until you couldn't I think of you and your last marathon at 81 Your last half at 89 and how proud you were Other runners wanted their picture taken with you,  The oldest half marathoner they knew  They were inspired, we all were There were then a lot of 5k and 10k runs still left The last senior games at 94 would by your last After having done every single one since they began You fell and hurt your head and didn’t remember I saw you a few times in that nursing home One last time in February before Covid You were walking fast  with your walker around the other patients Some had vacant stares, others were envious “I have to ge

The little old man Stood his ground Proudly despite outliving several other humans Not loved enough until he met Charlene And was fed Biscotti and allowed To lick the bowl after rice pudding And sleep in her bed On Monday nights when I visited I took him for walks  he trotted, happy to be outside Peed, but then came in and peed again On Charlene’s garbage can  His worried, opaque eyes followed her Into the bathroom and then  While she lay dying  He slept by her  side, not wanting to leave her Char wanted us to euthanize him so they  Would not be separated in death But he had more life to live Even though he had no teeth and he was worn  Like the velveteen rabbit His worried eyes at her funeral seemed to beg me For one last chance And I took him home  Where he loved Toby and romped like a lamb In the backyard Until he deemed it was his time I never got him a name tag Thinking that he would never go far without me Now I know he was never mine  He was just a guest, just passing through On