When I was five my family moved about two blocks away from the only home I had ever known. I loved that house and called it my Mother Goose house because the pitch of the roof was so steep that I could imagine Mother Goose having been a former tenant. It had a pint-sized window seat (just perfect for a little one). To me,the wall paper in the front hall was a beautiful pattern and the strange way the hall from the living room curved around rather than making a sharp corner, that was really nifty.
The kitchen was HUGE with lots of cupboards, all of which had clear glass panes on each door. And my bedroom? That was the BEST! Mom and Dad had wallpapered the ceiling with a pattern that simulated a dark blue sky with various sized stars. It was so neat to just lay in bed and feel like you were outside staring at the heavens above. Truth be told, my parents had done that to camoflage an uneven ceiling, but I thought is was FABULOUS!
It wasn't my parents desire to move that had brought my family to the Mother Goose house. Rather they had overextended themselves by building their dream house. They just couldn't get out from under. And that brings us back to the third home, a couple of blocks away.
It was a nice house and I grew to love it there, but mom and dad had bought it so they could convert the attic into two apartments in order to have the income to help ends meet. After we had been there a few years, sometime between age 10 and 12, I accidently met one of the children whose parents had bought the Mother Goose house. As I went on and on about how I had loved that house, she asked if I would like to go back and see it once more. I jumped at the chance.
As I went through the front door instead of feeling as though the surroundings were familiar, I felt as though I had never been there before. This was a small house with small rooms and the kitchen, the room I had described as HUGE, was tiny, too. It was rather a let down but it got me to thinking. My revelation was: Everything's BIG when you're LITTLE.
With that thought in mind, I will share with you some poems I've written that give a bit of insight into a child's perspective.
By Patty Lynn
A shopping mall, when you are small’s
Like walking in a forest,
But not of trees, just legs and knees…
And shoes that play a chorus,
As one by one they hit the floor.
They klick or stomp or clatter.
It’s LOUD, that’s all that I can say,
Though, it really doesn’t matter,
‘Cause when you’re built close to the ground,
The world’s a noisy place,
And feet the size of mine, you see,
Have trouble keeping pace.
But mom insists I walk, not ride,
That strollers are for babies,
And girls of four (though it’s a chore)
Walk just like grown-up ladies.
So I guess I’ll tag-a-long and smile,
I hope it’s over soon!
And if I’m good,
Do what I should,
I might get a balloon!
By Patty Lynn
I never knew how freedom felt
Or even thought I cared,
And then I learned to ride a bike.
At first, I sure was scared!
But then I mastered balancing
And I was on my own.
My independence tasted sweet.
I knew I’d really grown.
Oh, not the kind of growing
Where your clothes become too small,
But the special kind you do inside
That makes you feel real TALL!
Self-confidence the grown ups call
The feeling I describe,
But all I know is I feel free
And glad to be alive!