Posts Tagged ‘Moving On’

Christmas with Gene Autry and years gone by

Christmas is my favorite time of year … always has been.  When I was a kid, putting up the decorations in our home was my favorite time of year; and every year Gene Autry was on the record player … morning, noon, and night.  There came a time when I moved on from all those things, and didn’t listen to Gene Autry, didn’t decorate trees, and let Christmas come and go in stride.  I hoped the few times back home, over the years, that I could recapture some of the Christmas spirit that was there in my youth, but … it, and everyone, just like me, had moved on.  Not to say that those trips weren’t enjoyable; just not ideal.  There was still the little pin holes in the ceilings from years of hanging streamers, and looking at those always gave me a smile.  It wasn’t until Tara was born in 2002 that Gene Autry made a come back, and when Alyssa arrived in 2004, he was still going strong … indeed, he still is today … I’m on the return leg of my trip through life now, the nostalgia portion … what was in, that went out, is back in again … and long may it live … “Merry Christmas folks … where ever you may be” …

Worth a Christmas Spin …



© 2010, Tim (P) Prendeville

Hindsights and Perceptions

Days and days of rain.
Was it ever any other way?
All of those days,
Perpetual darkness and gloom.
Did the sun not ever shine?
It must have.
It must have.
Didn’t it?
I just don’t remember.
I just don’t.
Why is that I wonder?
All those years.
Even when I look back now,
It’s rain I remember
And nothing much else.
But I’m sure there must have been more.
Wasn’t there?

© 2010, Tim (P) Prendeville

A Hand To Hold

A short time ago my six-year-old daughter’s teacher told her that she’d soon be old enough to walk to class by herself, and not “drag” her poor dad along all the way from the car. I was within earshot of this at the time and casually smiled it off as a nonoccurrence.  But for some reason this morning it came back to me, and the profoundness and fragility of such an utterance hit me hard.  It occurred to me that I never want my daughter to feel so grown up that she wouldn’t want me to walk somewhere with her.  I never want her to be so grown up that she doesn’t want to hold my hand in front of her friends, or give me a kiss and a hug goodbye in the morning, or be embarrassed by me when I goof around with her in public.  I want to be with her until I take that last walk with her down the aisle, and hand her off to whomever she chooses to be her life partner … and even then, I’ll have problems letting go.

I remember the first morning I saw you
Taking your first peek at the world
And the look of confusion
And a face full of questions
But no fear.

I remember it was raining
A typical Irish day
Though it was June
And in my heart, I knew
That my life was now not my own.

I remember phone calls made and one line texts
Telling those who cared that all was well
Five fingers five toes and eyes that were mine
And making plans to wet the baby’s head
Old Irish traditions live long

I remember Granny
And the first time she held you
In the sun lounge where the sun seldom shines
And her smile speaking volumes
The way only a granny’s smile can

I remember your first day in school
And tears that were shed
And wondering where the years had gone
And why so fast
And becoming fearful of a future without you

I remember all of your days
Your first steps
Your first fall
Your first words
Your first smile
Your first pain
Your first ice cream
Your first everything

When you have grown
And put away those little girl ways
And live in a world of your own making
And no longer need my hand to hold
I hope it is because
I have taught you well.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

A Life Unlived

Oh the times we could have had
They seem so real to me
So clear in my mind
As if already lived.
All the laughs we shared,
And tears too
Memories now lost and unlived,
But clear to me that
Some day
They would have defined my life.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Trapped (song lyrics version)

Where are you now,
In these every days?
Are you still you and living
As I used to know?

Give me back those days,
My today’s I will trade,
For they just pass and fill my moments,

Outside eyes are peering
Seeing only prim rose shadows.
I am hiding from the world
A life unseen,
Oh I am hiding
A life unseen.

I am growing old,
Life is too,
And I am weary for a past
That’s lost along with you..

Release me to that past
Where I belong with you
My one and only one
I let slip away.

Outside eyes are peering
Seeing only prim rose shadows.
I am hiding from the world
A life unseen,
Oh I am hiding
A life unseen.

© 2008, Tim (P) Prendeville

The Stairs

Closing his eyes he drifts,

And hears the laughter.

The past drifts in and lingers

And grasping at the moment

He sighs.

Standing now his eyes take in the mantel

Moments in time

Frozen in time

They alone in their lives

He alone in his.

Hand on rail he climbs the stairs

And recalls when they were new.

Sixteen steps from bottom to top

So many footprints

All in the past.

Top of the stairs

He pauses.

And looking to the attic

Remembers Christmas days and decorations

And sounds of children.

The house is quiet

The past is gone

He lives alone with his memories

And alone with his thoughts

And a conscience that will not sleep.

© 2008, Tim (P) Prendeville

Phonecalls from the past

When I was a child

Life was good,

And lived in moments


But that was then.

In my days of now,

Too many times,

Life comes calling,


This is how I live.

Was life so good

In those good old days

Of which I speak

So often?

Or was it just just the innocence of youth?

The emotions of confliction,

All too familiar

In my everyday life,

Haunt me,

And hide me from the world.

Where is my world,

The one I dreamed of

Before life took hold,

And trapped me

In a present,

Fixed in the past?

© 2008, Tim (P) Prendeville