Meredith Carson... Across the Pond and Back Again...

Last week my oldest daughter attended a poetry camp.  She was pretty private about all of the camp happenings during the course of the week and mentioned very nonchalantly on Wednesday that there would be a poetry reading on Friday.  "How exciting!" I thought.  I knew that I'd love to go and hear my girl recite a poem or two that she'd scratched out during the week, so I arrived with average expectations and left with puffy eyes and a bursting heart. I think that Emma Carson is a little bit special, and here are a couple of her poems for your enjoyment.  Hearing them read by my girl with cool confidence and captivating expression was almost more than this mama could handle. An Inspiration My dad is Christmas pancakes in August. My dad is a ghost-buster on Halloween. My dad brings you a rose at school on your birthday. My dad is unexpected. My dad knows everything but doesn’t boast. My dad is a teaser. My dad is heart-fully sorry that he teased you. My dad w...

Summer was a bit late to arrive this year.  When I last sat down to write, there was a bit of panic coursing through my fingers as they tapped on the keyboard.  I was suffocating under a blanket of doubt.  Would summer ever properly arrive?  I felt that I urgently needed to leave the country and possibly leave the state of Michigan permanently.  I didn't know if I could cope for one more day without the warm sun on my face. Shortly after I wrote about escaping back to Great Britain (a foolish retreat location for a sun seeker), summer finally did arrive, and ever since I have been happily drowning in it.  I cannot begin to describe how much better everything is during the warm, sunny, summer months for me.  I am still myself.  I do not suddenly have organized drawers or find myself cheerfully putting away fresh smelling stacks of folded laundry early each morning.   I am still an introvert who feels more than a bit...