Home #2

I am from Heroes of Might and Magic and One Touch test strips
(almost empty but also full)
Grass clippings and Grape Vines
Singing from backs of trucks
Nice
Causey, Me and Tika
Long time Mormons!
“I want you to be alive for a long time.”
Camp Utada
Potato casserole
The time when the boat almost sank.
Home — which now belongs to
Someone Else.

-Jeffrey Wade Attermann

*Jeff wrote a poem, too. I love it even more than I love mine. This is a really fun exercise.

Home

I am from Super Nintendo and Otter Pops.
The red brick, multi-level, tract housing
seen in every suburb in the West.
The freshly mowed grass and sandbox villages in the summertime.
And how about those Mad-Lib versions of The Night Before Christmas?
The cacophony of voices at the dinner table
And the I-dunno-where-do-you-want-to-eat gene.
Those Mormons, Those Democrats Down The Street, Those Cubs Fans.
That thing that doesn’t seem like it fits,
but you can’t discard.
The phrase: “Do what you love.”
Wrigley Field, College Campuses and Movie Theaters.
The Green Slush from the giant Tupperware and
Banana Chocolate Chip Cookies.
That time Mom got struck by lightning in the Grand Canyon and
“It’s July.”
The album in the dusty box in the office of my parents’ downsized condo.

-Megan Noyce Attermann

* From time to time, my job provides the opportunity to be inspired by amazing people. And it gives me moments to be introspective and creative. Today was one of those moment. In a workshop led by the storyteller Kevin Kling, I wrote this poem (in 5 minutes) about home. 

 

On Waiting

We are children waiting in the
Lengthy line of a roller coaster.
No concept of the depth of the wait.
Little understanding of the role of the ride.
And yet
We excitedly choose to step both feet
Forward.

Here we stand.
Shifting our weight from foot to foot.
Anxiously inching closer to the
Screeching wheels and clacking metal.
Hearing from those before us what awaits.
Elation.
Exhaustion.
Exhilaration.
And, really, the unknown.

We wait.
We wait.
And with a deep breath
— we hope —
we’ll ride.

-Megan Noyce Attermann

*Occasionally, my job gives me the time and space to be introspective and creative. This poem is a result of one of those moments. It was written very shortly after we were approved to adopt.