Sixteen Hands and Sixteen Feet
Kris Szlauko
Sixteen hands and sixteen feet connected to childlike faces, can put an older sister through her paces.
Six boys with two outnumbered girls kept my teenage years constantly in a whirl.
Hands, small and smaller, belonged to lots of short people and a few who were taller.
My busy hands found shoelaces with knots, that always missing sock, tons of laundry, and a kitchen piled high with dishes and pots.
Fingers in noses were hard to bear but worse of all, was when they offered to share.
To keep a boy’s room clean was a challenge that was lost, clothes were strewn, messes were made, with all those toys that escaped from their box.
Homework to be done was always a chore, and often the next morning it did not make its way out the door.
All boys’ feet were constantly busy, the clamor of their mischief sending me into a tizzy.
The boys’ hands and feet working together were double trouble, forever.
Beds became trampolines for those who dared, heads would knock and shirts would tear.
All too common were mock fist fights with bloodied noses and the shoeless bicyclist with his toes caught in the spokes.
With their dress-up mess-ups and knots in their hair, and all those dolls always in dis-repair.
Girls were less of a challenge than the boys; however, they, too, had a plethora of toys.
Keeping girls’ hands out of mischief you see, kept me busy as a bee.
Sandbox cooking with sticky mud-pies kept little fingers busy, until they touched their eyes.
My hands and feet were the busiest, as the eldest of them all. I spent many hours at the children’s “beck-n-call.”
My hands rarely stopped; drying tears, dishes, and table tops, washing faces, clothes, toes, and noses. Walking a rag around a wet floor, an excellent substitute for a missing mop.
Catching toddlers before they fall and setting tables for them all, were just a few of the never-ending battles to fight, that kept me running until late at night.
When Mom was home from work, I had a well-deserved reprieve, because now there were two of us to roll up our sleeves.
With four hands to make beds, collect the clothes, bathe the kids, change a diaper, and put the trash in the dumpster, the time sped faster.
When the day was spent, Mom and I would look around and ask what had we done? For as we were cleaning, sixteen hands and sixteen feet were having all of the fun.
Tomorrow is another day for this teen. At times, I wish that I could have been a child placed somewhere in between.
Dear Mom, I do hope I am having a dream. I thought you just said that “Sixteen will soon be EIGHTEEN!”
“Hand me a white flag! I want to declare, DE-FEET!”
A Stroll by the Lake
F David Rolf
Across the crystal lake it blows
The gentle evening breeze
Caressing your awaiting face
And rustling through the trees.
It’s beautiful at dusk to stroll
Along the peaceful banks
It makes you feel so wonderful
You feel like giving thanks.
A fish will jump and make a splash
You know he’s having fun
A family of ducks pass by
All quacking, every one.
The sun has set, behind the hills
With darkness coming soon
The gentle waves, across the lake
Reflect the rising moon.
A time like this is rare indeed
Such beauty to behold
A value placed upon it now
Would be worth more than gold.
Humor
Sandy Ilsen
It wasn’t your money, it wasn’t your looks,
And not because you are smart.
Your sense of humor attracted me
From the very start.
You made me laugh when I was sad
You gave me a new dimension.
You showed me that life was not all bad
That’s what caught my attention.
It got us through the ups and downs
And, at times it was quite a strain.
But we still found something to laugh about,
Your humor diminished the pain.
Even today I look ahead
As our autumn comes into view.
It was always like we’re on our first date,
It was such fun to grow old with you.