I Always Knew, but I Didn't Know

After "Things I Didn't Know I Loved: After Naxim Hikmet,"
by Linda Pastan


I always knew I loved the sound of rain on the roof of the upstairs bedroom
at Beth's cabin.
And snuggling down under the covers and the feel of the soft linen sheets,
so smooth, so cozy.
But I didn't originally like the afternoon sun shining through the skylight
into my eyes.
But now even that is comforting, because her home is such
a home to me.

I always knew I loved the aroma of homemade bread, which my mother
used to bake,
And as I came in from school, I'd know something wonderful
was in store.
But when I was the mom, and baking the bread, it became much more
than simply taste or smell,
It became a symbol of who I was as mother, and my identity
as earth mother.

I've gone through so many stages in my life--from daughter to wife and mother,
and now to grandmom,
And the years as professional, to student, to minister, and now retiree.
And all the work that has gone into that life, and the stress that has
accompanied it,
That I'm still trying to understand who I am.

The question of, "Who will I be when I grow up?" is a
continually moving target.