Memories that drench your skin in a coal black night…
Memories that crumble you to the ground…
You can pack your boxes, fill up your gas tank or plug in the EV and drive across country,
but those vivid scenes and words that paint bruises on your heart will find your front porch.
They boast a built-in navigation system, so, it’s up to you – freedom of choice.
You can let go. Anything or anyone unworthy of your loyalty won’t nest in your mind.
The road will be yours – unending… surrounded by beauty, possibilities dancing, the sky opening around every curve
as Natasha Bedingfield sings “Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten.”
Choose wisely. Do it for you…
because you are worthy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thanks so much for being here today. ❤️
We miss Copper this holiday season, but we’ll find comfort in the photos of him by the tree, wearing a Santa hat, or snoozing by the fire. If you’d like to order a copy, or know someone who would find comfort in this special collection, please click on the link. Thank you. xo
I remember when the pink lines on white stood out brilliantly like pink peppermint candy. Those lines said it all, spoke the truth – my life with my husband was about to change, slowly like pouring molasses. We had been married for two years, so we were ready to start a family. In less than nine months, we would receive a gift, a tiny human who would depend on us, the adults, to highlight the beauty that life offers and to protect her or him from harm.
When I thought deeply about what it would feel like to be pregnant and what was to come, the notion of pain grabbed my attention! I assumed that I had a low tolerance, but soon enough, I would learn more about my capabilities. Little did I know that in less than forty weeks, I would give birth naturally without medication, and then a second time a few years later, again without medication. I learned so much about myself.
Then my brain started working overtime, and you know what trouble that can cause. I was nervous about becoming a mom. Will I know what to do in each circumstance? Will my reactions be intuitive? What if I fail at the most important career in my opinion, being a parent?
The insecurities huddled together creating a force that couldn’t be accessed. They hurled at me like hurricane winds. Then the momentous day arrived; our baby was ready for the meet and greet. We had decided to let the gender remain concealed until we saw our precious bundle. After a 6 ½ hour labor, she entered our world with rosebud lips, and those insecurities scattered like ants.
My husband stood by the bed, comforting me in any way he could, and then he felt privileged to cut the umbilical cord. What an experience for him! It was his out-of-body moment just like giving birth to a little human was mine. In that instance of time, I became a mom, and he became a dad. New hats were immediately added to our wardrobes, along with new responsibilities. We would do our best so that our little girl would know how much her parents love her, so that she would feel safe.
Almost four years later, our family of four was complete when our son came into our world, bringing the same out-of-body experience for my husband and me. For the second time, we let the gender stay unknown. So when we saw our little boy, elation flowed through our hearts. We had a daughter and son; two tiny bundles of cuteness blessed our lives.
Looking back, watching decades soar by, flipping through memories in our photo albums remind us of how special it was to witness our daughter and son grow and learn, and turn into kind, hard working adults, making us proud a million times over. The laughs, the scary moments, the tears, even the minimal tantrums when they were young, I’d live them all over again, and so would my husband. And worrying about them doesn’t end just because they’re adults. They’ll always be our ‘babies’ regardless of their age.
The most rewarding though is the realization that we did something right because in their adulthood, we have strong relationships with them both. We’ve entered our mid-sixties, so the ‘kids’ are in their thirties. We talk and text all the time, the communication line remains open that travels in both directions. And since they live out of state, pursuing their dreams, paving their paths, we all fly east and west to visit as often as we can.
As I grow older, life seems to become shorter, so the love of my husband and children are the greatest, most priceless gifts. These three amazing people are my everything. Anything else that comes my way in the form of a blessing is a bonus.
First Breath
With every new miracle of life answers aren’t scripted in the stars, but I knew since your very first breath my life would become yours.
Through innocent eyes and curious touch each new discovery you shared, your smile grew bigger than the sun, your heart’s elation declared.
You stowed dreams in the clouds, imaginings rose higher than the heavens. Cuddling you in that first euphoric light made me fall in love with you in seconds.
Life has blossomed into delight and wonder in every part of its glowing greatness, and with each ounce of my being, my enduring love for you is ageless.
(Published in my book, Ever So Gently)
our little girl at 6 monthsour little boy at 7 months
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I took a walk down memory lane, and though this is my story and my husband’s, I hope you enjoyed the stroll.
Thanks for visiting, and have a beautiful week ahead.🩷
Click on my daughter’s image to order your copy! 🧡
Lauren Scott
Author – King Copper: Our dog’s life in poetry Author – Cora’s Quest (a children’s book) Author – Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry Author – More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose Author – Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry Author – New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry Co-Author – Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku Co-Author – Petals of Haiku: An Anthology Co-Author – This Is How We Grow Co-Author – Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023 Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024 Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025
What a surprise to find that my poem is published today on Gobblers by Masticadores! I offer my deepest gratitude to Manuela Timofte for sharing my writing. It’s always an honorto be featured among many talented writers, so I hope you’ll visit her beautiful site.
The Old Pink Restaurant
I feel old and withered like a dying rock rose. Cracks propagate down my stucco exterior like fault lines in the earth. Does an outburst lie on the horizon?
I remember when vibrant pink, like a fuchsia feather boa, would invite strangers in – strangers who became friends.
My mood has a mind of its own. When the sky opens, tears stream down my windows, tattooing me with streaks of dirt.
I’ve been abandoned for years – no one seems to want me...
To read the full poem, please click on the link below. Your support means the world to me. ❤️
Author – King Copper: Our dog’s life in poetry Author – Cora’s Quest (a children’s book) Author – Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry Author – More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose Author – Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry Author – New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry Co-Author – Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku Co-Author – Petals of Haiku: An Anthology Co-Author – This Is How We Grow Co-Author – Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023 Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024 Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025
I feel old and withered like a dying rock rose. Cracks propagate down my stucco exterior like fault lines in the earth. Does an outburst lie on the horizon?
I remember when vibrant pink, like a fuchsia feather boa, would invite strangers in – strangers who became friends.
My mood has a mind of its own. When the sky opens, tears stream down my windows, tattooing me with streaks of dirt.
I’ve been abandoned for years – no one seems to want me. My door – faded and rotted, hanging like a dead tree branch, wouldn’t welcome a rat. Do you know what it feels like to be all alone? To feel worthless?
There was a time when chatter and laughter filled me to the brim, bounced off the walls into Margarita merry, chips and salsa celebrations.
Now, I sit on the corner like a human without a home.
My sign reads:
Will I ever feel alive again? Will I ever feel life again?
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We drove by an old restaurant that we miss where the building has remained vacant. So, I became inspired to write a personification poem.
Thanks so much for stopping by, and I wish you a wonderful Wednesday. 💝
Click on my daughter’s image to order your copy! 🧡
Lauren Scott
Author – King Copper: Our dog’s life in poetry Author – Cora’s Quest (a children’s book) Author – Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry Author – More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose Author – Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry Author – New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry Co-Author – Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku Co-Author – Petals of Haiku: An Anthology Co-Author – This Is How We Grow Co-Author – Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023 Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024 Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025
Matt and I had a great time at our favorite park among the redwoods following a video chat with the kids. They’re always so thoughtful and we missed not celebrating his day with them, but we made the best of it. He secured our bikes on the back of our Honda Pilot, we stopped for a deli lunch to bring with us, then we drove into the park. The experience is magical no matter how many times we’ve visited – like venturing into a whole new world. We went for a ride first, enjoyed our lunch, then rode again, riding close to eight miles. It was so much fun! I’m sharing some scenery photos and will turn comments off because I’m working on the final stages of my Copper book, wrapping up a few book reviews, while also reading blogs. So, I hope you enjoy!
Old swimming holePossible nest up there?Solo troutMagicalBuckeye treeWine on the patio reflecting on our wonderful children, bigcelebrations with family in the past, the great day we had, and enjoying the company of a ladybug and hummingbird
This post honors all loving fathers who do their best ‘to be the best’ for their children. To begin with, for my husband, our fathers who have passed and are missed more than I can express in words, and to my brothers-in-law…The poem below was written about my husband, Matt, from my poetry collection, Ever So Gently.
Beneath the Big Golden Sun
He was their hero when they were young, teaching of nature beneath the big golden sun. They tried on their packs before feet hit the trail. He’d say, “Be prepared or else you could fail.”
The trio trekked down paths and up inclines too, pausing along the way to admire a flower or two. After arriving in camp, they helped pitch the tent, stakes in the ground, windows unzipped to vent.
As an Arborist, he educated them about trees under the blue sky beside the buzzing honeybees. They explored the ground seeking burrowing bugs. He expressed praise with words and loving hugs.
When the sun faded at the end of a day, they roasted marshmallows, found dominoes to play. His first goal was fun in nature, then came self-reliance. Their minds were like sponges, soaking up the science.
Now they reminisce for the best teacher he was and recall the bonding with the deepest of love. Now he’s proud of them, adulting and doing it well, honored with the memories, the special stories to tell.
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It’s always fun to take a walk down memory lane…
A younger FIL, who taught his son (Matt) about hiking and the great outdoors.
A fave of hubby and my dad after Mom passed.
My mom passed in 2012, Dad in 2017, and Wil (FIL) in 2023. I don’t know where the time has gone for life to continue without our parents. But like all loved ones who leave our earthly world, they live in our hearts. And the photos we have become more precious each day. It’s just that these special holidays that pay tribute to them are spent differently. I miss the noisy, family get-togethers. We’d gather at our house, or Mom and Dad’s, or one of my sister’s homes. Those days remain only vivid memories. My sisters live in So. Cal. And our son and daughter live in CO. and TN. so we won’t see them in person, but a video chat will sustain until the next plane flight.
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By the way,DNA doesn’t make a good father. Actions Speak Louder than words, as we’ve heard before. A biologically connected man who neglects his children isn’t a good dad. A great father is a man who is emotionally available and actively involved in a child’s life.
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SO HAPPY FATHER’S DAY TO THESE SPECIAL MEN IN MY LIFE AND TO ALL THE FATHERS AROUND THE GLOBE! MAY YOU HAVE A FABULOUS CELEBRATION! 🎉
“The greatest gift a father could give to his children is his time.”
Enjoy your weekend, and Thanks for stopping by! I appreciate you! ❤️
As I mentioned in my last post, I’m focusing on my book to honor Copper, our senior puppy who received angel wings in March, while also trying to visit you. This has been my mindset for the week, but I’m pulling my hair out because of glitches. Third time’s a charm, they say, and Life is NOT about throwing in the towel!
Anyway, one of the posts I had the pleasure of visiting was Vicki’s, and it truly intrigued me. Please pop over to her lovely sight for inspiration and enlightenment: https://victoriaponders.com/2025/04/28/echoes/. She was originally inspired by Lori’s post: https://loripohlmanwriter.com/2025/04/25/polished-maple-tables/in which I also visited, feeling the same rush of inspiration. They both spotlighted the following poem and the concept of writing our own version:
Where I’m From By George Ella Lyon
I am from clothespins, from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride. I am from the dirt under the back porch. (Black, glistening it tasted like beets.) I am from the forsythia bush, the Dutch elm whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own. I am from fudge and eyeglasses, from Imogene and Alafair. I’m from the know-it -alls and the pass -it -ons, from perk up and pipe down. I’m from He restoreth my soul with cottonball lamb and ten verses I can say myself. I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch, fried corn and strong coffee. From the finger my grandfather lost to the auger the eye my father shut to keep his sight. Under my bed was a dress box spilling old pictures. a sift of lost faces to drift beneath my dreams. I am from those moments — snapped before I budded — leaf-fall from the family tree
To read more information and for helpful tools in writing your poem, please visit Vicki and Lori’s wonderful posts. And now, I offer you my version. I didn’t use Lori’s template, but I ran with the concept. Thoughts appeared one after the other, so mine is a bit lengthy, but I don’t feel like cutting anything out just yet. Subtle rhymes also slid their way in, and I’m unsure if they were supposed to. Nonetheless…
I am from
I am from my mom’s emotions that had a mind of their own so wild at times emulating a summer storm I am from my dad’s humor where smiles bloomed but his temper too in my less patient moods
I am from flower petals I did not plant Mom’s were nurtured – my thumbs weren’t green yet the petals’ beauty is always seen I am from butter, sugar (granulated and brown), vanilla, baking powder and soda, and nuts, yes, sometimes this is the case, and chocolate chips in their tantalizing ways
I am from the moon in her mystery The sun in his radiance The lake in its serenity
I am from the well-liked and the shunned the self-doubt lodged on my shoulders the redwoods standing tall I am from planned and spontaneity clarity and ambiguity
I am from the Big Bear cabin on the corner from laps and splashes in Orange County pools I am from “When you have children, you’ll understand” I am from two sanctuaries for finding God to discovering faith near mountains and sand
I am from me unique, quirky, strong, kind, a used-to-be people-pleaser the third of three daughters I am from knowledge still pouring in like a flood of surging waters I am from gratitude for every little blessing from those I love, from being loved I am.
My bicycle had met its fate a while ago, so we bought a new cruiser for me. Cycling is better for my back, and in addition to using the stationary bike in the house, we now have an outdoor option. We went riding Saturday and Sunday morning in cool, perfect temps beneath cheerful sunshine. Wind in our face felt so freeing! The same feeling my husband gets when riding his motorcycles. Heading to the kids’ old elementary and high school stomping grounds was our plan. Oh, the memories! I hope you enjoy the ride, and of course, the poem I had fun writing. Cheers to riding and writing!
Two wheels carry us Wind in our face Pedals in rotation A comfortable pace
Freedom in our bones Rolling through veins Blue sky umbrella Easy on the reins
Two campuses we sought Nostalgia in our minds Posters for council Blooms of all kinds
Well, hi, Mr. Bear, Looking massive as ever Don’t mind us as we coast by for pleasure
Cruising through corridors Memories flow Our children’s years learning With smiles aglow
2010, 2015 Fun graduation days Diplomas and celebrations Beneath sun’s rays
Painting of murals With colors so bright Language of art Beauty and delight
Quads work vigorously Uphill we pedal A fun ride behind us The greatest medal!
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author 