Friday, December 17, 2021
Our parents, Don and Flo Nicholas had three children. I'm Bob, the youngest. My sisters Kay and Donna were four and six years older. We lived in an old house, a converted sawmill that once belonged to the Shaker religious community in Western Massachusetts. In fact, the narrow dirt road that ran by our home was called Shaker Lane.
In 2013, I published 'Shaker Lane' on Amazon. It's a collection of poems - a semi-fictional account of my childhood growing up along the rural lane with my loving older sisters guiding me through life. One of those poems, 'Puppies', involved Kay.
PUPPIES
Sister Kay takes me by the hand
“We’re going for a visit. I have a surprise for you.”
We head down the lane toward the highway
Swinging our arms happy to be together
On a beautiful sunny autumn day
She holds my hand securely
Carefully watches traffic before we cross the busy road
Feel safe protected her hand gripping mine
Once on other side she leads us left
Home of Mr. and Mrs. Love
Sitting on back porch
Rocking contentedly
Elderly couple
Children gone if they ever had any
Home has that ‘old people’ smell
Aged, homey, comforting
And there they are in a big cardboard box
Whining on the porch
PUPPIES!
Lots of puppies
Beautiful puppies
Little puppies
Crawling all over each other
Eyes barely open
Lovable loving puppies
Sister picks one up
Gently places it in my arms
“Be careful now, don’t hurt him.”
I look in Kay’s eyes
I love her
She’s beautiful
This is a wonderful moment in my life
Always to be remembered
The puppy is warm
Huggable
Crawls around in my arms
Whines then settles down
It cuddles
In my embrace
Boy and helpless puppy
She smiles and understands how I feel
My heart is bursting I’m so happy
Rush of emotions
Elated
Content with the world
Her little brother
Mr. and Mrs. Love
Look at the two of us
Longingly
Brother and older sister
Loving us as if we were their own
Young healthy happy
With new soft puppies wriggling in our arms
I know we cannot keep one
We have a beagle
Dad uses for hunting
Not a house dog
Not a play dog
But I like him
We feed him
He needs us
And licks our hands
But I really love these puppies
And so does Kay
We stay for hours it seems
Hugging all the puppies
Talking with the old couple
Sharing the gift of new birth
Brother and protective sister
Return to Shaker Lane
And home
Puppyless
When I received the news that Kay had passed, I curled up in a recliner, reread this poem...and cried. This is how I'll always remember her - smiling down at me with a warm puppy curled up in my arms, its heart beating against my chest, full of new life.
I'll miss you!
