Ma grandmère (haibun)

This week’s quote prompt for Ligo Haibun Challenge,  focuses on Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, more commonly known as ‘Mahatma’ (meaning ‘Great Soul’) Gandhi. This is the quote that inspired my haibun.

“Whatever you do may seem insignificant, but it is most important that you do it.”

As I was writing this I also had another prompt in mind for Haiku Horizon and the prompt was “comfort”.  I realized when I completed it that I had two themes in mind and yet, I find this important person I talk about was a significant comfort to me and important role model…my mentor and strength in life.

~

her comfort

always gave me

strength 

© clr Grand-Maman 2014
© clr Grand-Maman 2014

 

 

I am reminiscing of times passed in Grand-Maman’s house when she was still living there. I would arrive and she’d always have that mocking chuckle.  It was a teasing laugh with affection.  In French there is an expression, “Qui s’aime, se taquine.” {One teases a person they love}  I am quite tall and she would often greet me with a laugh and then ask me before I had time to sit down, “Oh, by the way, “la grand jaune” *.  I was holding these items here just for you.”

Warm feelings

taunting with affection

comforting words

Folded with care on a chair next to the washroom were tablecloths carefully ironed.   She ironed everything, even sheets and dish towels.  She would wait for me to store these high UP in the cupboard over the bathtub.  I know that sounds odd.  My grandfather built this house “à la pièce” {bit by bit}.  At first it was a snack bar for summer tourists who came over to rent a row-boat or go for a swim in the river.  He added more and more until it became a 2 bedroom home. perhaps he was still chief of police then and living at City Hall ….I am not too sure of the entire story and not many people are living to confirm this, so I am going by the memory of my youth.

I would take the pile of linen, stand up on the side of the bathtub and place them in the cupboard.  The ceiling in the washroom was about 12 feet high compared to the kitchen it was very high!. I guess that was once part of that snack bar.

Then we could sit and chat with a nice cup of tea.  I liked my tea strong because I added sugar and milk the way I used to as a child. Grand-Maman,  on the other hand like her tea like most French Canadians, black.  So when I would pour the boiling water in my cup, she would always say, “Don’t throw out the tea bag…put it in my cup…I don’t need it strong.”

 

© clr 2014
© clr 2014

Sipping my tea

the mind rewinds to times

that comfort me.

It always felt good to sit at the kitchen table and munch on some of her pies  or sugar cookies she had baked. And if there weren’t any, she would pop in some bread in the toaster and we’d enjoy toast with des cretons or molasses.  The latter was one of her favourite.   She would talk about stories when she was younger.  Sometimes I would talk about a friend or colleague I worked with in town and she would remember the mother of that friend.  Most probably she had delivered them at birth since she was the village mid-wife, she had delivered thousands of babies in all the surrounding towns including most of her grandchildren…I was one that was born in her bed!

She would talk about madame so and so, the wife of a military man when she had pensioners boarding in her home during WWII that were referred to her from the Military Camp in Farnham, our home town. People called her for recipes,  gardening, how to patch their roof, how to sew a coat, advice on child rearing and for ailing the sick or a dying relative. Being a midwife was only one smart part of her role, as well as raising seven children, supporting her husband as Chief of Police, being a fervent Catholic.  She brought me to my first communion as everyone seemed busy that day.  As if raising her children was not enough, when I was 14 and my sister 16, she took us in with our mother when our father flew the coop.  Never once complaining about wanting to “live” for a change but continued to cook, clean and nurture us as we were her own…proudly too!

 

Many called her madame Daudelin, others called her Garde Daudelin (nurse) and most just called her Grand-Maman Daudelin.

When GrandMaman passed, I asked for those four cups that I favoured .  They look like ordinary “diner” style cups but still they meant a lot to me.    One particular cup had some paint smudged on the bottom and I NEVER wanted to scrub it off.  There is something about that particular cup that comforts me when I drink my tea.  It holds old memories of times passed and the bond and love I had for Grand-Maman who was my second mom and my model in life.

extraordinary

humble, selfless

ma grandmère.

~

extraordinaire

modeste, généreuse

ma grandmère

All our visits to her home had a purpose. She had linen or cans to store on shelves, work for my uncles to get done outside or fix some pipes in the basement, my mom would colour and style her hair regularly…everyone had a feeling they gave her something  when they visited and felt good about themselves when they left; and yet, she gave so much to all of us in wisdom, love, hope and mostly purpose in life.

 

breathing strength

living life with love, faith, hope

ma grandmère.

 ~ 

elle souffle une force

vivant ses  trois vertus,

Grand-maman.

 

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/26

*la Grand Jaune {this was a character in a French Québecois show, “Séraphin- Un home et son pêché” and she was tall with blonde hair}

This was submitted for: Ligo Haibun Challenge

also  Haiku Horizon and the prompt was “comfort”

Buttercups by the river (haibun) CP#499

Last Saturday I went to visit my mother in my hometown. I was pleased to be with her and it was also on the longest day of the year, summer solstice.  So on my way home, I decided to drive by the church where I was baptized and received most of my sacraments including matrimony.  What is lovely about sitting  across the street from this huge cathedral styled church is the river.  There are benches where you can look down and see and hear the water flow over the dam.

© clr 2014
© clr 2014

I like hearing the water rushing downstream like that. I could feel some of sombre thoughts float along with the current.    The river has always listened to me, somewhat like my private journal, only I don’t have to speak and I don’t have to write.  As I followed the flow of the water, I could see the sun setting in the east…so beautiful even this late!

© clr 2014
© clr 2014

I noticed that the town has also added park benches and planted some flowers.  My eyes turned towards the humble garden.

sitting solemnly

deep in thought, until

I saw buttercups

© clr 2014
© clr 2014

 

I was quite surprised to see only two buttercups blossomed in that huge mass of green leaves. As I got closer, you could see the buds of future blossoms. {I must drive down next week}.   It was still a beautiful sight and I was so pleased to be able to still capture some nice shots at such a late hour. It was 9;30 P.M.! But hey, guess that’s why they say it is the longest day of the year.  Seeing the flowers changed my mood.  Walking towards another bunch of bushes, I saw more buttercups.  I’m not sure if they will withstand the wind by the river but that bright yellow sure looked nice.

© clr 2014
© clr 2014

 

By the river

swaying in the wind

buttercups.

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/25

Written for: Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #499 Buttercups

Rain (haiga)

© clr 2014
© clr 2014

cleansing rain

feeds mother earth

hurts my joints

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/25

Butterflies in the garden (haiga) CP #498

Toronto Photographer:  Sara Desjardins

~

whispered, “good night”

caterpillars,  I woke up

to butterflies.

~

gently land

on soft petals,

flitting  joy.

joined together

in the garden, they play house

a brief time.

© Cheryl-Lynn, 2014/06/24

Do you want to get involved in saving the Monarch Butterfly?  Get milkweed!   Click this link  and here 

Check out Sara Desjardins’ (photographer)  Facebook Page as well.

Written for: Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #498 Butterfly

Summer freedom (Carpe Diem #497 nakedness

© clr 2014
© clr 2014

hot summer night

skinny dipping in the pool

kids sound asleep

 

toddlers giggling

splashing in the wading pool

naked

 

end of summer

children rarely seem to have

tan lines.

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/23

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #497 Nakedness

Ciao bella (haibun – puente)

As I was waiting for my son to visit last night, I was preparing my late dinner, steak and rapini and grabbed my notebook that I kept on the counter and scribbled these thoughts with fondness.

Rapini

(puento)

sorting rapini

watching water boil, missing

bella’s kitchen.

 

~reminiscing where foul don’t always fly~

 

hear the geese fly

aiming for cottage country

honk honk honk

 

In my thirteen years living in Toronto, I made amazing friends and colleagues. I miss many and sorting the rapini while the water was coming to a boil, I could not help but be reminded of that weekend I spent mostly in Bella…Maria’s kitchen.  She cooks like most Italian mothers do…with abundance of love.  She taught me by having me take part in making a cannelloni from scratch! {the sauce as well}  (which I hurried to practice upon arrival on Montreal soil) then prepare a decadent dessert, tiramisu and watching her prepare rapini. My hips do not allow for the dessert too often but rapini is a new favourite that replaces my love for spinach and broccoli…now it reminds me of juicy food and succulent conversations with Maria.  Je t’aime bella, cia mia cara.

Classic Tiramisu 

(haiku)

Ciao Bella!

Maria knows best

feeds bellies with succulence

“mangia mangia”

 

What I also discovered living in Toronto was that not all feathered species like to fly.  Many parks are filled with geese and ducks who are fed all year long…don’t really care to leave this great home.  They seem to have taken residence and do not bother to fly south winters.

I still love to look at the geese who usually fly in the shape of a giant V with the leader at the head, coming and going from Canadian towns.  However, I found these Toronto geese less intriguing but more intrusive with their pompous attitudes, blocking some majour intersections in the Lakeshore area while motorists had to literally stop while a family led by Queen goose mother decided to cross the street!  I suppose it is funny now but in some parks especially at Centre Island,  it may not always easy to find a clean spot to lay your red checkered tablecloth for a romantic picnic.

Canadian geese – Toronto

(haiku)

Toronto Geese

roaming,head high

lawns become their giant

chamber pot

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/21

 

Never lose sight

Sitting here

contemplate

not so clear

roles of late

sitting here

I am, I am,

pondering

reflecting

weighing pros

and also cons

making sure

I don’t lose sight

of simple basic principles,

As I think of this tonight

I ask for some guiding light

and grace to finally see

make sure I never

 ever ever

lose sight of things that matter.

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/21

This was originally written for a prompt 51 at Pooky Poetry on Loss of Sense but I misunderstood obviously, yet decided to post it anyway.

The Stigma of her despair

Stigma deprives so many suffering youths and adults from getting proper treatment. There is treatment and there IS recovery.

Tournesol's avatarStop the Stigma

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The stigma of her despair

She struggled every day at school

dragging her feet there anyway

life at home was not so cool

she rarely talked to anyone

at school they called her emo

she always dressed the same

black shirt, black jeans without a logo

a long black trench coat too

all clothes she got at Sally Ann

she died her hair jet black

painted her nails and lips

black with hints of maroon red

to match colour of  blood,

it looked like her uniform

a suit of raw despair

because no one did care.

she tried to ask for help

saying she felt so sad

whenever she couldn’t stand

the pain, she chose to hurt herself

then students saw her marks

and bullied her some more

the teacher called her parents

so she could seek some help

but they screamed with such fury

for shaming the family.

And…

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Thoughts interrupted (puente)

© CLR View of Montreal from a bridge.
© CLR View of Montreal from a bridge.

Thoughts interrupted  ( puente) 

where shall I go from here

so many paths to choose

don’t want to upset anyone

 

~life’s filled with so much wonder~

 

summer festivals begin

jazz, blues, francophonie

time to hop and have some fun

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/20

This is a new poetic form I am trying called  the Puente (which means bridge in Spanish), uses a one line “bridge” to connect the first and last stanzas. 

– 3 stanzas
– Stanzas 1 & 3 contain different ideas, thoughts
– Stanzas 1 & 3 consist of the same number of lines (meter and/or rhyming up to poet)
– Stanza 2 connects meaning from first to last stanza
– Stanza 2 must be one line enclosed in tildes ( ~ )
– Stanza 2 is the last line of Stanza 1 and first line of Stanza 3

Written for Poetry Jam – June 20 ,2014 Check this link out to see so many amazing poems written for this prompt.

Friday Fictioneers – The Bourgeois Massacre

PHOTO PROMPT  Copyright -Mary Shipman

PHOTO PROMPT
Copyright -Mary Shipman

The auction was on. People piled into the Bourgeois house out of curiosity, no one really wanted to buy a house after what had happened. It was five years ago. The city waited out of respect for their past Mayor François Bourgeois but the taxes had to be paid; the law said 18 months in arrears and a property had to be auctioned off to cover at least unpaid taxes.

A young girl was lagging behind her mother, staring at the wallpaper where the little Amelie had slept. She remembered sadly,  playing Barbies here.  That was before the Bourgeois Massacre.

 

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/20

Written for Friday Fictioneers – Photo Prompt June 20,2014 – Fiction under 100 words.