This poem talks about a phenomenon I've often noticed since becoming a mother. I started thinking of individuals I met as someone's babies - sometimes wondering how they went from that to the way they turned out, and sometimes thinking that some parents somewhere must be feeling proud. It's a different way of looking at the world; if we could all do it every day, it would revolutionize the way we treat people.
This reminds me of the Gwendolyn Brooks poem, "To an Old Black Woman, Homeless and Indistinct." (You can read it here if you scroll down.) The last few lines are poignant:
Folks used to celebrate your birthday!
Folks used to say "She's such a pretty little thing!"
Folks used to say "She draws such handsome horses, cows and houses,"
Folks used to say "That child is going far."
1 hour ago
1 comment:
I like "Man in a Parking Lot" too. Sometimes it's impossible to imagine people's younger selves... In those cases my imagination sticks their adult head on a toddler body in my mind's eye. I find it strange that I view people this way when sympathy is called for, but less often when others are already beautiful or strong or successful. You're right that things could be revolutionized if we (I) could remember to see everyone like this.
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