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Apple Picking

 I wrote this poem after what would have been Lauren’s 16th birthday. I was driving to my friend Katie’s house and we drove past the apple orchard that Lauren and Sam and I had picked apples at to make apple pie with a couple weeks before she died. I pass that orchard all the time but on that day I remembered its significance, unsummoned the memory overwhelmed me. I wasn’t looking to remember, it just came. At first I was sad, thinking that now every time I pass that orchard I will think of Lauren. But then I realized that that was a good thing, that was a way to make sure I never forget. That’s what I was saying in this poem.

 Apple Picking

Passing Holmberg’s just like any other day,

but today is different.

But why today?

Last week I was fine, even happy, a

pillar of that sad, calming joy

that comes at times.

I want to be sad sometimes. I wish I

thought of her more, that every day

I could have a little tidbit of memory.

Because forgetting would be the worst thing of all.

Remember, every time I hiccup, every time I sing,

every time I find a good book (she had a knack

for picking them out).

Be grateful for that day

passing the orchard,

and my stomach tightened with the weight of her presence.



February 2006




i really like the poem.
it's really good.
i like how you said you don't want to forget. and how you don't think about her everyday.
sometimes i think about stuff like that like you feel sort of bad that you don't think about that person every single day, and you don't want to forget, but since they aren't here anymore, it's hard..