Nancy Prouty March

Walking the uneven path along the river

Water careens down the rocky ledges

throwing mist to the heavens.

Tall stately guards stand at attention

as their long green branches of sturdy fir

reach to the blanket of clouds above.

Around the bend, my nose smells

the scent of fresh cut pine 

seeping sap like slow melting icicles.

Trying to take it all in one breathe at a time.

Releasing that which I can not change

Reaching down for solace in a pool of tears.

Evening Prayer

By Nancy Prouty March

 Try to imagine all the things

 That your  father did for you when you

 were an infant, and then a toddler

 and then a young child, 

and which you cannot remember 

because you were so young, 

and which you may never discover,

 and which even they may have

 even forgotten about. 

Perhaps you will never know all of the things

He did for you—

Changed your diapers,

Kissed you each night

Hugged you and said, “I love you.”

Was your baseball coach,

The one who took you to the mountains

To learn to ski, for lessons, time to spend together

Stood in the cold, proud as you flew

Down the slope and said,

“He’s a really good skier.”

He flew you to Tahoe

A father and son adventure.

He learn to ride a horse and 

Take you for lessons.

Rarely missed a scout meeting

Camped in the winter, on ships, 

And made shelters to keep you warm.

Stood up straight & proud when

You received your Eagle Scout award.

Taught you to drive,

Trusted you to have a motorcycle

Took you to Americade 

Another father & son adventure.

He stayed awake pacing evenings

When he was afraid for you

And the choices you were making.

He helped you make a plan to hike 

The Appalachian trail.

He packed boxes, thoughtful of every item

He worried each night about his boy

Alone in the dark.

He traveled South to meet up with him

Gave him a room, shower, a few laughs.

Memories for a father & son adventure.

He would leave him on the trail with a

Strong firm hug and a few bucks!

He sat in the front row of church

Smiling and proud of his son when he said,

“I do!”

He helped him buy his first home,

Fix broken this and that.

When you needed help he was

Always there.

He wept when he saw you

Hold your first born son.

It was truly a family something

That eluded him as a child –

Here was his son, a man, a father.

He held that little grandson of his

And that day love bloomed.

Being a grandfather changed his life.

All his life he searched

for that rapture he feels

each time he holds your son.

t

Pre Mastectomy

By Nancy Prouty March

I've been awake since 3:00 am
sitting alone in the dark
contemplating tomorrow's surgery
and the cancer that lies
beneath my breast.
Eyes closed…
imagining
wondering
searching.

A memory caresses me &interrupts my thoughts.
I feel my friend Kate nearby bringing

her usual brand of comfort- a cup of herbal tea,

homemade valentine, or a candlelight dinner.

Not a day goes by without
memories of her...
brilliant paints meandering
onto 10 x10 blank canvases,
pencils and paper 

Objects of nature

Awaiting her attention on her
sun drenched studio table.

My eyes close and my 

Memories focus on our last day together…

We walked out to the backyard

on a late June morning
barefoot and free
and danced in the thick wet
green grass like fairies with wings.
We sat in old weathered
wooden chairs starring at the

brilliance of the day.
Kate looked at a big tree
standing in the yard and said, 

"See how that treelost a limb in the storm?"
"Yes," I reply.
"Most likely it will survive.
Only a scar will remain.
That is Hope."

Today I live in that hope
because of you dear
friend.

Watching the Sun Come Up

Nancy Prouty March

August 2016

Mary Oliver once wrote a poem —Why I WakeEarly.

This morning I sit in peace on a weathered bench

watching the sun rise amidst the morning's purple haze.

Water laps against the seaweed laden rocks

while seagulls flap their wings and coast

along the tide meeting a new day. 

The slow murmur of a lobster boat's engine

disrupts the silence that hovers in the trees

along the rocky coast. 

It is here in this space, in the reverence of the moment

my spirit awakens and begins nourishing me for the day. 

Something about the Great Blue Heron

 and the smell of salty brine awakens the essence of who is me.

December 18, 2014 Your 60th Birthday

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Dec. 18, 2013

Dear Tom,

Today would be your 60^th birthday and today is a day of reflection for your still grieving sister.  I miss you my brother, my friend, and my confidant.

Since you’ve been gone many things have happened.  I am the grandmother of 4 grandsons.  Andy works in the same industry as dad and Nathan is a Roman Catholic priest.  Dan has finally moved home and is able to work at home and I retired from teaching June 2012.

 Carina is a wonderful mother to Liam and wife to Brandon.  She is wonderful about keeping your life story part of her story.  You would be so proud of her.  I feel so sad that you can’t be here to babysit, play, fish, and make pies with Liam. 

 I don’t have any idea how Heather and Tyler are doing because Pris will not give us access to them.  I was in touch with Tyler a couple of years back but haven’t heard from him since.  It’s sad your children are estranged from their family.

I have no contact with David.  I heard he got married and I am very excited for him.  I’ve written him over the years and he never answers.  I’m glad he won’t be lonely and he will have someone to share his life with.  Everyone deserves to be loved.

So many times I wished I could pick up the phone and talk to you.  Things have really changed. Being able to communicate became much easier with the advent of cell phones and social media.  I would tell you to come up and we could go pick blueberries and make pie and jam.  In the spring you could come with your grandson and we could go to Moosehead and teach him to fish.  I would call and tell you I am coming down and we could canoe Bigelow and reminisce about the days of playing pioneers, climbing trees, and catching suckers in the brook.  Maybe you would text me a picture of the beautiful feathers of a pheasant and I would drive down to stew the delicate meat into a delicious sauce like dad used to.  We would be friends on facebook posting pictures of our kids and grandchildren and all the places we visited. Probably sharing a recipe or two to accommodate the bounty of our gardens.

 In the fall you would come stay with me and hunt deer on our 13 acres of property in South Paris, Me.  We would crank up the woodstove and you would have tea with sugar and milk just like grandma use to make for you and I’d have hot cocoa. I’d make you grandma’s chicken and rice soup and you would make an apple pie.  In the morning we’d have French toast the way dad use to make it with think cuts of mom’s homemade bread and plenty of maple syrup from our own trees.  Remember the gigantic maple in the front of our old house?

I finally got rid of my beloved Saab.  She was good to me in all kinds of bad weather.  But I am always on the look out for that antique truck.  One that will haul my Christmas tree and one that my black lab, Othello, and I could bounce down back roads with.  I love back roads.  I think it started in Connecticut when I’d visit grandpa Prouty at the cemetery.  Over the years I have collected the most amazing stories from people who live on those back roads.  I often day dream of taking off in my truck, with Othello, my camera and recorder and making a documentary of the back roads of Me, NH, and Vt.

I go to Vermont twice a year to visit our Prouty relatives.  Dan laughs at me and calls my travels to Vermont my obsession with the dead relatives.  You would be interested in the stories I have written about.  We have a very colorful and rich family history in Vermont.  Quite possibly it is where you would have loved to live.  Beautiful farm land, peaceful, and very traditional values.  I see you there for sure.  My next story to write is a story about our Great Grandmother.  She was a very strong, brave, and determined woman.  I’m fascinated by the events in her life and her unrelenting love of her family. 

My retirement was bittersweet.  For someone who started out as a biology major and wanted to be a librarian, I found teaching to be very rewarding.  I taught over 500 students in my career and I’m still in touch with some of them.  In 2001 I was voted teacher of the year.  I was very excited about that.  It is a vote of confidence from my peers.  My students and parents threw me a big classroom party.  I also wrote and received 2 huge grants from National Semi Conductor.  One for equipment to support a digital history project the other to support integrated science, math, and reading, and writing project.  It was a great achievement that benefited my students and the school.  I wish mom and dad could have been around when I received these awards.  Mom thought going to college was a waste of time and Dad was excited to know I wanted to be teacher. Did you know that mom prevented dad from coming to my graduation?  He did let me know in his own way he was proud of me. 

My dear brother, so much has happened but these are a few of the highlights.  Wish I had more news about your kids. This is the last picture I have of Heather.  I remember Dan making this picture of Heather and I at the same age.  It was uncanny.  When you left they were so small and I haven’t seen them since you’ve been gone.  It makes me sad.  But be rest assured I keep in touch with Carina and they are one cute little family.

Love you Tom and miss you.  I miss what our life could have been and having a brother to talk to.

Love,

Nancy