Crickit's Corner

Monday, February 9, 2015

i am for you

I am for you

A toddler learning about her new world.

Pulling herself up to stand; she takes her very first steps.

She looks at you, as you hold out your hands.

I am for you.

A young child is pretending to play the piano.
She sits down on the bench, lifts the lid;
takes out a piece of sheet music that belongs to you.
She places her fingers clumsily on the black and white keys,
and tells you that one day she will play the piano too.

I am for you.

An elementary school child struggles with reading.
Books are her enemy--
especially when reading in front of her classmates.
Her spelling scores are low and since the two go hand in hand;
she gets discouraged.
Her teacher, although quite strict, takes her under her wing.
She tutors the girl.

I am for you.

Learning routines for cheer leading try-outs is both; exciting and frightening.
Long legs and flailing arms can't keep in sync with the music.
Middle school can sometimes be cruel.
Into loving arms you go and a shoulder where tears can be left.
A skateboard ride with a friend; as cares are left to the wind.
Tomorrow is a new day.

I am for you.

A young woman sees her reflection in the glass.
Married now with children of her own: one on each hip.
She wonders-- will my words heal or sting.
Will I inspire, encourage and cheer?
For words don't always go out of the ear.

On a lovely spring day; she walks to her mailbox.
The steps she takes are more difficult, as the years have passed.

She has waited longingly for this day.

As she carries the box up her front steps,
she is greeted there by her siblings.
Her sister gently takes her hand.
Time has touched them also, with heads of silver
and spectacles that now cover their blue-grey eyes.

Her brother opens the box for her, his hands a bit shaky;
being careful not to destroy its contents.

There-- she holds in her hands, her very first published novel.

Tears roll down her sun-kissed cheeks and through each wrinkle, as they fall.
She bows in prayer to thank the Lord for this gift; and smiles.

She opens up her book to the dedication page and reads aloud:

"I want to dedicate this to all who have encouraged me on this journey. Encouragement comes in many forms. It comes from a piano teacher in the form of beautiful music and patience. Thank you. It comes from a teacher not willing to give up on a student; but instead sees her potential and helps her soar in reading and spelling, never knowing that she has found her niche in writing. Thank you. It comes from a loving parent being there to hold her daughter through some of life's disappointments.Thank you. And friends who are there by your side for a lifetime. Thank you. It comes from siblings who journey with you as your words are written down; in each ebb and flow, they feel with you and cheer you on. Thank you. And lastly it comes from your very own children who sometimes had to call you out on your "not so" encouraging words. Thank you.
I am for you all!"

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

post-est with the most-est

MUCH time has passed since my last post here.

Summer vacations have been taken.

Granddaughter's have become "little girls".

(right before my eyes)

Garden veggies have been harvested and consumed.

The water in the swimming pool is calm; rippled only by a passing wind.

The school bell chimes.

Fall is here.

A new baby granddaughter has been birthed.

LAYLA JOY
9-25-14

(OUR DAUGHTER KRISTEN, GRANDDAUGHTER'S GIANNA & LAYLA

Soon the wind will bring with it, little ghosts and goblins.
Visiting houses with a rhyme; hoping for a treat that is sweet.

Thanks will be given; turkey & cranberries eaten.
Folded hands with grateful hearts.

A tree adorned with ornaments, colors and lights.

Wrapped boxes; laden with bows and ribbon,
will wait patiently beneath,
to be opened by young and old alike.

An important and life changing Birthday will be celebrated.
Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Emmanuel,Counselor, Mighty King and Holy God.

The year 2014 will move forward; no looking back.
Creating a new place; a new year; and a new beginning,
for memories, hopes and dreams to be achieved.

As for me?

I will keep my fingers on the keyboard.
My thoughts on the page.
My head in the clouds.
My heart on my sleeve.
And the sun on my face.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

my izard county roots

(Cousins!)

(Porch sitting & photo sharing)

(The green, green grass of home)

(My sweet cousin Anna and I in front of my grandparents old house in the country)

Written by
Crickit Caputo

I recently returned from a family reunion in Arkansas.

It was held in a small town, down at the "the place in the country."

Now, to you-- that may sound pretty vague.

But for the folks there, it means--- h.o.m.e.

This is the area where my mother was born,

and her parents before her, and their parents--

well, you guessed it -- before them.

My roots go deep into the Arkansas soil.

Izard County, in fact.

But I am a California girl, born and raised.

Beaches, mountains and valleys are home to me.

My grandparents moved their little family of four from Arkansas

to California when my mom was just three

and her older sister; nine.

Better jobs were available in the west, and breathing in

the ocean air, was good for a little girl with asthma.

Although this little family moved away from

the comforts of their home and family in the deep south,

they never forgot their roots.

You don't forget the hospitality of family & friends.

You don't forget the long, hard days working in the fields,

where the sun--high in the sky,

beats steadily down on your back and neck.

You don't forget your calloused hands,

as they dug deep into the hard soil to plant and to reap;

crops of vegetables and cotton.

You don't forget the loss of family members at a young age,

because modern medicine

was not modern enough. ( at that time)

You don't forget girl time with your sister's, in the small country kitchen.
Large pots of water brought to a rolling boil, with glass jars clanking,
as fruit and vegetables are ladled carefully into each jar.
Next-- a scary, dark walk down cement stairs
to where each jar is placed on the shelf,
to be consumed in the coming cold winter months.

You don't forget family dinners and special occasions

where everyone gathered in the country,

to feast on fried chicken, okra, green beans, fried potatoes,

creamed corn and homemade rolls.

And for dessert--homemade apple and coconut pies.

But you go--

because that is what is best for your family.

You both work diligently and hard while you raise your daughter's.

You are rewarded with two sons-in-law and six grandchildren;
all of them; the apple of your eye.

You reside close by so that you can love on them often.

Then without knowing, you share with them, your southern roots.

You show them what selflessness looks like.

You give them over and over of your time.

Oh precious time!

You teach them how to be wise with their money,

and that morals & values really mean something.

You are hospitable and kind.

You cook southern style meals at every sitting,

because that is all that you have ever known.

(Oh, how I wish some of that had rubbed off on me!)

You hardly ever sit down to a meal because you

are busy serving others.

When retirement rewards you with some much

needed rest and renewal,

You make a big decision to move back to your roots,

this time-- just you two.

Your Arkansas family welcomes you back with open arms.

You were sorely missed.

You celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary there.

You make several journeys back to California,

pulling your home on wheels behind you.

You parked in our driveways--

cooked on our stoves,

did our laundry and ironing,

spoiled our children,

and continued to leave us with loving memories of you,

way after the time that you left.

You held us all together with your grand-parental glue.

I thought of you both, last weekend, as I was seated on the back porch swing,

looking out over the sprawling green lawn and fruit trees.

A plate full of southern cooking sitting in my lap;sweet tea in my hand,

laughing, as heart-warming and fun stories were told about you.

Oh, how endeared and loved you are by these folks here!

I felt you both there with me on that day of reunion.

No, you weren't there in the sky or the trees,

but close to me, in my memories.

I closed my eyes and could picture you both there--

many years before, sitting on that same back porch,

plates full of southern cooking in your laps,

a bottle of coca cola in your hand,

surrounded by your kin folk--laughing

and living out the stories that would soon be told to me.

I am incredibly blessed to be a part of your family tree.

Your roots were well watered.

And the sunshine--abundant.

Your leaves; although many have flown away, still live on in us all.

Your trunk-- stable and unwavering.

I hope to go back again someday-- to the South.

Family means everything to me.

I learned that from you.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

behind his lens

behind his lens

This blog post is about this man; behind this lens.

He is a man of God.

He is a son, brother, husband, father, uncle, grandfather & great grandfather.

He is a loyal and beloved friend.

He is my father.

Retirement has been good to my dad.

He was able to retire from the day to day grind at 55.
Not many people get that luxury but he did.

He is now 75 and... it looks good on him.

In the past 20 years, my dad has done some changing.

Some of the changes came without asking; though.

They crept up slowly and settled in his body.
Bones have become more brittle and spine curvatures more noticeable.
Muscles have lost some of their strength, and endurance; some of its durability.
Sleep doesn't come as easily or last as long.

With all of the changes that age brings,
my dad has slowed down a bit.
Although, there is always something to fix or repair,
paint, epoxy, clean or build.
He may complain a little about all that he has to do,
but deep down-- he loves it.

It is just who he is.

I am so thankful for him.

He has had to be both mother and father to his children for a time.
I remember the smiles on his face when
he opened the "Mother's Day" cards,
addressed to him; from us.

Love found him again in his 40's, and for her we are thankful.
Relationships are not always easy, but with time and God's grace,
He brought us together as a family.

Over the past few years, my dad has become quite the photographer.

He has found a home-- behind his lens.
  He is a member of the photo club in his active retirement community
and has won a few awards for his pictures.

I love to sit down next to him as we look through
the many recent pictures he has taken.
It is just part of the process of getting just the "right shot".

With my camera, I took photo's of my dad-- taking photo's, during our recent visit.

I watched him as he patiently lifted his camera to his eye, to view his shot.
Just waiting for the perfect moment to capture the perfect picture.

I wondered what exactly he saw behind his lens.

This is what I saw...

It wasn't the beauty of the desert or the artist who put his blown glass pieces
in amongst the desert landscape, in those botanical gardens.

I saw a beautiful head of silver and eyes of soft gray-blue.
A quiet but thoughtful soul filled with wisdom and experience.
Both pain and joy have touched his face and left their mark.

One day, God will call him home and it will truly be heaven's gain.

But until then...
I will collect new snapshots and file them with the old; in my minds eye.

Until the day, I will have only but them to draw upon.