This post is the third in a series of guest posts in honor of Women’s History Month, nests for ourselves and others.
Welcome, lovely D Smith Kaich Jones.
in the 3rd grade I drew words in the air and when others laughed,
my teacher did not.
her. a small moment.
a friend’s young daughter on the side of a pool, scared of the deep end,
not yet a woman, but her. another small moment.
christmas dinner the year my father died,
hospital food, hospital cafeteria,
but that night a knock on my door.
my 80 something neighbor with arms full of hugs
a plate full of turkey & dressing & pie;
“you should always have leftovers on Christmas night”.
i am built of the moment my mother put a paintbrush in my hand,
“if it’s bad you can just paint over it”,
i am built of my sister-in-law’s apple pies baked extra tart just for me,
of a friend’s silly messages when life was hurting,
of fresh-from-the-yard hydrangeas propped against my early morning door.
i am built from all the women who have stood before me
and beside me and those behind me,
pushing, holding me up.
i am built of the moments they gave,
hammers in hands,
mouths full of nails and kisses,
a blueprint called me spread before them.
the small moments belong to women,
to the girls,
to the cousins and coworkers and friends we wish were sisters,
because we know they aren’t ours to keep
and we give them away.
D Smith Kaich Jones is a Texas baby who grew up to be an artist – painter turned writer turned storyteller/poet, using whatever tool is at hand to spin her stories. She is interested in the overlooked small moments, the imperfections of daily life, forgotten secrets, the hints of people a place remembers, and can be found online at www.emmatree.com or https://twitter.com/#!/smithkaichjones.