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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Daily Cascade
Since my old blog "Everyday Canvas "  became overfilled, here's a new one. This new blog item will continue answering prompts, the same as the old one.
Cool water cascading to low ground
To spread good will and hope all around.
September 7, 2025 at 2:07pm September 7, 2025 at 2:07pm
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Prompt: Cousins
“A cousin is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost.”
Marion C. Garretty
Do you have cousins and how much do you like them?
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I love my cousins. All of them. Granted, I am closer to a handful few, but having been raised without siblings, my cousins became my siblings without the trouble that sometimes arises among the flesh-and-blood siblings.
In my somewhat suppressed and thus chaotic childhood, my cousins became the golden threads that tied me to life's joys. They were always the unseen anchors. Those of them closer to my age became my gang and co-conspirators. Unlike with interactions with the adults, my interactions with my cousins were much freer. This is because we had a shared understanding born from navigating the same family dynamics, even if blood-linkage-wise, the family bond between us were second or third and thrice removed.
Plus, I always thought my mother acted more nicely toward me when my cousins were around. When I was the only kid in the house, I guess she felt, it was the time to really bend and educate me to her ways. This made my cousins a safe harbor when my mother's upbringing storms felt too overwhelming. That must have been one of the reasons why I cried and begged an uncle and all the other elders to let a certain cousin who was only a year younger than me and with whom I got along with very well, to stay overnight or a few days in our house. Usually if that cousin's school schedule didn't interfere, the adults gave in.
In adulthood, too, my cousins' importance deepened further even though life scattered us all over the world. Still, they are for me the keepers of our shared childhood, our family history. Moreover, most of them became the shelters I still take refuge in over the phone, even if I don't talk about my troubles or life at length. Just hearing their voices or getting a text message from them is a great comfort and it adds richness to my life.
My cousins are the laughter echoing across generations with their quiet nods of understanding, with their hands reaching out across distances and decades.
I am very grateful to God for putting my cousins in my life, as an extended network of love, understanding, and shared experience woven into the very fabric of my being.
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