This I Believe

Maureen - Louisville, Kentucky
Entered on June 29, 2007
Age Group: 50 - 65

This I Believe

I believe in blue jeans. I believe in brown shoes.

I believe you can stand up to people who think they’re bigger than you.

I believe in Gore-Tex.

I love rain.

Three summers ago we hiked the Highline Trail.

I believe now I could cross that snowfield you had to help me across.

I believe in trees and a hawk on a light pole on I-64.

And the magnolia blooms your mother arranged in a silver bowl.

I also like to watch nuthatches.

I believe in poetry.

And public education.

I know we need to pay teachers more than we do.

Once I saw a crow devouring either a big worm or a little snake.

Once a man apologized to you when he’d offended me.

I wish I’d learned trigonometry and the laws of thermodynamics.

I’m sorry I still want to be recognized in a crowd.

I believe in doctors who research diabetes and heart disease.

And doctors who are on-call four nights a week.

In the middle of the night there were no cars in the parking lot.

We waited in the waiting room a long time.

I believe more often than not I should be quiet.

I believe it is probably harder for me than it is for you.

Amelia Earhart believed marriage could be an attractive cage.

I believe marriage has an element of blank.

And pain?

I saw your mother’s face. Then yours.

Sometimes I want to believe in God.

And to follow the poet’s precept to write what you desire.

I know some keep the Sabbath staying at home.

I saw my mother pin sheets on the clothesline to dry.

I saw her iron my father’s work shirts for years.

I believe in kindness, though I could be kinder.

And that there are people I should have been kinder to when they were alive.

I was probably saying something about punctuation when the towers collasped.

I remember saying September 12th, Canada may seem like an answer.

For a while we discussed the Vietnam War.

I believe the war on terror will not end in my lifetime.

Nor will grace: our son, a kayak on the Snake River, a yellow-faced guitar by the door in his room.