Through Jarom’s Eyes

                        My mama let me

Play at dish washing,

Dig dirt and sand,

Mix water with dirt,

Stir cookies,

Roll down a grassy hill,

Splash in puddles,

Run in the rain,

Blow bubbles in my milk,

Pick dandelions,

Bang a pot drum,

Taste salt and sugar,

Smell cinnamon and mint leaves,

And pat the cat.

                     Mama read books to me,

Washed my clothes,

Helped me pray,

Sang lullabies.

                    I love my mama!


Cerita M. Hewett
October 30, 2015

After a Year of Blogging


           “I like to leave out the parts the readers skip over.”

           Elmore Leonard, from after THE END by Barry Lane, pp. 207


It is amazing to me that a whole year has passed by since I began this blog with the encouragement and help of Alisha and Edward. Though I was slow to act upon their suggestions, I have enjoyed the experience. Thanks to all you who have found something of interest and have taken time to comment on my words. Those comments make it worthwhile to continue to share the simple thoughts and ideas that I have written.

As before, the writing I am posting was produced in the past, and after some thought and often revision, I am publishing it here on the web. It is not usually written the week it is published, as it is difficult for me to think, write, and polish something new each week. Most of my writing needs some ‘ageing’ before it is ready to be shared. Also, I will be posting some things written by family members and others, with their permission. This will add a bit of variety and some new voices to the blog which I think will be interesting. If you would like to contribute something, let me know and we will try to include it.

May you enjoy these samples of shortened text and find in them something to encourage your day, something that rings true to you.

Let us celebrate together the joys, challenges, and vitality of daily life here on this beautiful earth.

The first offering in November is a tribute to my Mother who was an unselfish woman and a great inspiration. Autumn was her favorite time of the year when the crops were in, the bottled fruit on the shelf, and the children starting a new year in school. She read poetry to me when I was really too young to understand “Evangeline” or “The Courtship of Miles Standish” but her voice, the rhythm, the feelings still ring in my ears. I found the writing of this piece so much fun and my personal understanding of her life was greatly enriched.

                                                  Cerita M. Hewett
                                                  November 2016

Her Favorite Hour

Daylight Savings nap

                                       (for Alisha)


Her favorite hour of the YEAR?
Daylight Savings’ Fall Back Morning.


Nothing is planned,
No one can demand it,
Because this mythical hour,
Actually doesn’t exist,
Truly a FREE hour,
She can really sleep in.


Thank you Woodrow Wilson.
You probably didn’t think of
This unintended consequence
Of your World War I policy!

                                                               Cerita M. Hewett
                                                               October 30, 2015


With school out,
We sat on the wooden back steps
Sucking out the sweet green middles of the deep blue grapes,
Spitting the seeds into the lawn. 

The warm September afternoon soaked into our lithe bodies.
We joked about the day,
Talked about the substitute teacher,
And discussed who was running for president.

I was at that moment thirteen years of age,
Physically mature,
Complete in my own mind,
All knowing.

You asked, “So, who would you vote for?”
Knowing you were listening, not judging.
I shared unabashedly, “I like Ike.
Since he really knows war,
He will work for peace.” 

Two women sharing grapes and the day,
Somehow I didn’t notice then that
You were thirty years older than I,
That we were mother and daughter.

                                                                                                Cerita M. Hewett