GIRL ON 9 ACRES
ENDINGS
I do not know how to tell
this story.
It is not only mine,
after all.
Black lace in the breeze,
desperation.
One hand on a casket
fingers longing to rip it open
To see
To know.
A widow 8 months pregnant
-with me.
JULY 14, 1968
Her dress fits snuggly,
the baby is due any day now.
What will this child be?
Tiny fingers and toes and mouth
with dark hair like her daddy?
He said, “Don’t have that baby until I get back!”
A promise she can not keep.
Unconscious fingers lace beneath her belly
where the child lies quietly, waiting.
Will she have his eyes, green and deep?
People in shades of gray
murmur soft condolences.
A voice, “it is time. Time to walk.”
So she moves toward the dark edge of earth
her hand caressing smooth wood.
The child will sing, that is certain
a voice to blend with her own
and a part of him she can hold.
Her belly jumps, alive with life.
The darkness slips beneath the earth.
"A very excited mom-to-be created 50 of these birth announcements. After the plane crash that snatched Beki's father away, these cards were never used." - Corleen
Instead, this card was sent to friends and family at the time of her birth.
Lonely am I
Happiness is something
that often can’t be found,
‘Cause this cold world holds nothing
but heartache and broken dreams
Lonely am I, lonely am I.
If you find your someone
love him, love him completely
Fill his life with sunshine - - -
tomorrow he may be gone.
Lonely am I, lonely am I.
Once I found my sunshine,
together we were bound - - -
Securely bound by cords of love
true happiness we had found.
Lonely am I, lonely am I
Two short years of sunshine
were all that came my way,
For tragedy struck swiftly
and snatched my love away.
Lonely am I, lonely am I.
A lonely form bent o'r a grave
wipes bitter tears aside
And turns away to face the world - - -
the one who was left behind
Lonely am I, lonely am I, lonely.
​
- Corleen
BEGINNINGS
How can this baby breathe
without her
father’s love?
Screeching and clutching
her hair a wild mass of dark
and an instant reminder
Here I am!
Your Chickadee.
Beki Doll
Beki Doll, Beki Doll,
You're so happy each morning,
Beki Doll, Beki Doll
Sunlight shines from your eyes.
You bring joy to my life again
You trade sorrows for rainbows,
One dimpled smile makes my heartache
Vanish and fade away.
Beki Doll, Sunlight, Beki
"From her waking moment until night, Miss Perpetual Motion kept mom on the run. At 8 1/2 months she was taking her first steps to the bathroom to 'wash Mommy’s keys in the toilet'. When night time came, she spun faster and faster until falling asleep with a sigh as mommy patted her back and sang…"
Goodnight
Stars so bright, say goodnight
Sleepy-time close your eyes
Angels watch o’re the sight
Sleepy-time close your eyes/
Darkness tucked all the sunbeams
Snugly into their beds
Go to sleep little darling
Lay down your little head.
Stars so bright say goodnight,
Goodnight.
Two weeks after my birth, Corleen took a job as girls dean at Columbia Adventist Academy. She was frantic to pay the bills and put food on the table but the emotional shock and the weight of her loss made rolling out of bed in the morning nearly impossible. Finally, after four months caring for 120 girls living in the dormitory, she turned in her resignation, scooped up her little girl, and drove home to Garbaldi, Oregon to rest and heal in the arms of her parents and with the sound of the ocean waves in her ears. Still, she slid deeper into grief.
Wise and caring friends Burt and Jerry Boundey showed up on her doorstep one day and saved her life, and mine. They took Corleen on a road trip to Montana, to the mountain crash sight. On July 14 exactly one year after the crash, hiking up that mountain until the tip of a wing came into view, she felt something inside her break free. The bittersweet release of grief and acceptance poured out of her soul. She gathered items strewn about the forest floor; Bob’s camera, a piece of wing with the number 1968, his shoe, a compass, pieces of clothing, all this she gathered in her arms and loaded into her backpack for the trek back down. Then she stood next to that twisted metal and sang, “Amazing Grace,” fell to her knees and wept. When she stumbled back to her feet she knew she was ready; ready to move forward, ready to hold the hand of that baby girl, and ready to walk toward the light, toward life, together.
I was 2 ½ years old when Burt and Jeri introduced her to Paul Johnson, a newly minted pastor in Wisconsin with a heart for God, cute sopranos, and even cuter baby girls with a lot to say.
Date Night
I am told by those who know
that I made dates
difficult.
Unsuspecting gentlemen
blushed and stammered on the doorstep
as the inquisitive toddler
marched towards them,
not hiding demurely
behind her charming mother’s skirts,
instead
demanding an answer to the
burning question;
Are you my Daddy?
And now soft animals, all colors and sizes,
watch over me.
Eyes closed with a peaceful smile
I sleep
surrounded by my fuzzy protectors,
gifts from the one gentleman
who knew instantly
a package deal was what he wanted.
He captured my heart
and hers
when I asked;
Are you my Daddy?
And he said yes
