The Closets of My Mind: My Life, as Remembered by What's Left of My Mind

By Rosemary Adams

These poems were written over a period of years. They were begun after a series of career decisions of paramount importance were made and continued through a time of great renewal. Some are funny, some are sad, some are meant to be thoughtful and introspective, and some are whimsical. So, enter, if you dare, the closets of my mind.

When you finish, you will feel like you know the author. So stop by if you want to. She'll leave the light on for you, and might even whip up a little something delicious. She's like that, you know.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467097826

Rosemary Adams

Rosemary Gossett Adams grew up in Hot Springs, AR. She has three degrees...a BA, MA, and AAS. She has been an art teacher, a mommy, a commercial interior designer, and a self-appointed watcher of hummingbirds (in that order). She currently lives in Louisville, KY, and has one husband, one son and daughter-in-law, one granddaughter, one dog, and three cats. She likes to cook, garden, and craft. She says sleeping is one of the things she does best. She dreams such vivid dreams, she sometimes confuses them with reality. Otherwise, she is fairly normal.

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© 2011 by [Pen Name]. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 12/02/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4670-9784-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-9783-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-9782-6 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011919520

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

ENDLESS WAVES OF ENERGY

A WINTER SOLACE

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #1

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #2

THE CHAIR

THE FINE ART OF FIREBUILDING

AN ICY MORNING IN MARCH

THE WATERFALL

INTRUSION

MY BABY

MOTHER’S DAY

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #3

ME AND HENRY THOREAU

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #4

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #5

BIRD OBSERVATIONS

MY CATS

THE STORM

BLUEBIRDS

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

YOUR GIFT

MOBILE ON THE GULF

TOMATOES ON THE WINDOWSILL

CLOSET CLEANING

GRATITUDE

THE CLOSETS OF MY MIND

THE BIRTHDAY

THE COMMUNION

THE RETURN

AMELIA ISLAND

FALL

AUTUMN LEAVES

A JANUARY SABBATH

BEAUTIFUL—COLD AND GRAY

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #6

THE GREAT SHOE CAPER

LIFE IS LIKE A TRAIN

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #7

THE CRASH

BILL AND ME

LET THERE BE RAIN

THE RACCOON

JANUARY MORN

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #8

CHAUNCEY

CORNERS OF MY MIND

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #9

MEXICO

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #10

THE INDIAN RESTAURANT

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #11

LAZY TIMES TWO

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #12

GRADUATION

THE TRUTH ABOUT CATS AND DOGS

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #13

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #14

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #15

THE OLD FOLKS

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #16

ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #17

POSTSCRIPT

THE BLITZ

A LITTLE MOUSE TALE

THE WALTONS

ABOUT THAT BEAR

THE MENORAH

TO TEXAS AND BACK

POST CHRISTMAS

MY CRAYOLA WORLD

THE MAGNIFYING GLASS

THE UN-NATURAL ENEMIES

VALENTINES DAY

BASSET HOUNDS IN GENERAL

THE CORONADO

VANITY

WINDOWS

BUTTERMILK AND CCC’S

BE NICE

CHARLESTON, SC

BASKET WEAVING

BRACE YOURSELF

SAN ANTONIO

FORMER LOVES

GLACIERS AND OTHER

AMAZING THINGS

HANG ONTO YOUR HAT

EVERYONE KNOWS A LINDA

SHE WAS JEWISH AND I WAS

A RECOVERING SO. BAPTIST—

WHAT A PAIR!

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

This poetry is lovingly

dedicated to my mate,

Glen Adams,

who puts up with me,

and to

Toby Adams,

who is not embarrassed

to call me Mom.

2000-first printing

2011-second printing

Louisville, Kentucky

FOREWARD

These poems were written over a period of four years. They were begun after a series of career decisions of paramount importance were made and continued through a time of great renewal. Some are funny, some are sad, some are meant to be thoughtful and introspective, and some are whimsical. So, enter, if you dare, the closets of my mind.

I would like to thank all the people who encouraged me to write, gave me confidence, and insisted that I share these musings with others . . . especially Dr. Debra Zukof, in whose memory this book is also dedicated.

IN MEMORY

In memory of

Dr. Debra Zukof,

1957-1998

As a result of her encouragement

I decided to publish this book.

She helped me get my life

back on track

after a derailment,

and then tragically

lost her own.

This one’s for you, Dr. Z.

ENDLESS WAVES OF ENERGY

I’m just a bundle of energy.

       You might not be able to tell by looking,

               but I am.

So are you for that matter.

For underneath our skin and bones

       we all boil down to a mass of energy.

We’re all born from a single cell

       filled with energy.

When it’s all over we’ll return

       to the source of energy.

Not a very romantic way to view life,

       but very little of life

               is romantic anyway.

And yet… isn’t it wonderful how energy

       can be viewed in so many

       achingly beautiful forms:

               an innocent baby’s face,

               a roaring waterfall,

               a majestic mountain,

               a ripe strawberry,

               kittens and puppies,

               bunnies and ducklings,

               the incredible edible egg,

               Richard Gere

                       (my personal favorite),

               not to mention you and me.

We may not have a bundle of energy,

       but we are bundles of energy.

               That alone is energizing.

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A WINTER SOLACE

The water trickles over the huge rocks,

       making its way down to the river,

       stopping here and there to form small pools.

The water’s in no hurry.

It gurgles and bubbles as it falls over

       the haphazard rocks,

       small waterfalls forming as it slides

       down the steep hill.

What beauty! What splendor!

I have to stop and find a log on which to rest,

       really just an excuse to spend some time

       in this sanctuary.

Too busy most of the time to take time for God…

       I find spirit here.

       I find myself here.

A chickadee, unaware of my presence,

       stops to get a drink,

       a squirrel scampers overhead.

If life could be this good every day,

       would this too become routine?

Is the chickadee any less grateful

       because he lives in the midst of this glory?

Soon spring rains will awaken the stream,

       and the surrounding brownness

will be replaced with hues of green.

       The grey-green moss will be accompanied

               by wildflowers,

               and the sleeping rocks will come alive

               as their browns and grays are contrasted

               against nature’s colorful palette.

       The land is awaiting its rebirth,

               much as I am.

       We’ll both be free and alive,

               grateful for another season.

       Summer will force the stream to dry up.

               But it won’t be dead,

               merely moved underground

               much as my spirit has been.

       For now, the shade protects icicles

               of myriad lengths.

       The sun dapples its rays through

               the still leafless trees,

               and its warmth promises spring,

               promises color,

               promises hope for tomorrow.

       I am at peace.

       I become as one with the stream,

               slowly moving toward the river…

               toward destiny.

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ROUGH RIVER MUSINGS #1

Listen to the silence…

       no traffic, no sirens,

Just wind gently rustling the leaves,