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October 12, 2010 / paperkids

Point to it

Me:  “Got any poems in mind?”

Emma:  Yes

Me:  “What’s it called?”

Emma:  Point to it

Me:  “Are you ready to type it out?”

Emma:  Yes

I lightly supported her arm, resetting it when necessary.  She typed it out on the iPad pretty much in one sitting, and did a very good job in precision with the delicate keys of the iPad notepad, which is what we’ve been using.  It was her teacher that recommended that maybe she would prefer having a color background, as opposed to white, to type on.  And it turns out that she does prefer it.  Not to mention it’s yellow!

A couple days ago, I asked her if I could put it on the blog and she typed out yes.

When I was retyping it for the blog, I decided to ask her about punctuation in the poem.  The thing about her spelling or typing out is that we haven’t begun to use spaces or punctuation yet.

Me:  “Do you want me to add punctuation and then you can tell me what you think?”

Emma:  add the punctuation

I added it where I thought maybe it should go.  I’m no english professor so I just went with the flow.  I read it to her and showed her where I added the periods and so on.

Emma:  reread it

So I read it again.

Emma:  I approve

Me:  “Would you like to add a picture to this one, too?”  It’s kind of a thing we’ve done since her first poem – picking out a picture to go with the poem.  It’s pretty thrilling to see what images she comes up with.  Very artsy fartsy and satisfying for this “gay and happy artist”, as Emma called me once.

Emma:  water

Me:  “Really?”  Interesting as always.  “What kind of water – the ocean?  just water?”

Emma:  Water trickling

Me:  “Why trickling water?”

Emma:  it is slow when water trickles

Me:  “Is this because you feel like you are slow, Emma?”

Emma:  Yes

So I took this out in our yard.  It’s hard to find water that trickles, but when you do, it’s beautiful indeed.


Leave a Comment
  1. Lynn States / Oct 12 2010 11:15 pm

    I’ve always been fascinated with Emma’s fascination of water. It’s interesting that she would compare it to her efforts with typing. Emma – you’re doing wonderfully and I’m so very proud of you! And yes, Emma, we are all listening.

  2. Sonia / Oct 13 2010 12:34 am

    This is too beautiful for words. Emma, I love to “hear” your voice. Sabra, your photography is beautiful. Your love for each other and life will change the world for the better!

    • paperkids / Oct 13 2010 12:56 am

      Thanks Sonia! I told Emma what you said:)

  3. amber / Oct 13 2010 1:24 am

    I am really enjoying your photos Sabra!

    • paperkids / Oct 13 2010 2:42 am

      thanks girl! It’s hard to get trickles! HA!

  4. Lisa / Oct 13 2010 2:09 am

    Are you sure Emma is only 9 and not 40 years old??? She is so wise and eloquent!! The pictures she imagines to illustrate her poems metaphorically are fantastic! Emma, you have A LOT of willing listeners!! We hang on every word! I know that your typing is improving each and every day! I am so very proud of all that you think, say, and do! You are an amazing person with an amazing mom!

    • paperkids / Oct 13 2010 2:41 am

      Lisa, thanks for your comment! I often feel like Emma is WAy older than me! I just read your comment and asked her what she thought: Emma: It prepares me to participate in the place of life. I think this has been great for us both. Thanks for your wonderful words:)

  5. Grandma / Oct 13 2010 2:31 am

    Granddaughter, your poems flow like water and “wet my ears,” a phrase you used in another blog.
    Sabra, your photos capture the essence of each entry.
    I yearn to hear more, always. Your poems reach me like dreams.
    Love to you,

    • paperkids / Oct 13 2010 2:42 am

      Emma loves you so. I read your comment and she typed about it: It was perfect. I think so, too:)

  6. gloria cassidy / Oct 14 2010 3:22 pm

    Emma. Perhaps other people are moving too fast. When water moves fast, of course it can create rivers, and electricity, but it can also drown out the voice of God and somtimes cause damage to the enviorment around it.
    Perhaps I could practice slowing down. I remember the clam slow feeling of sitting next to you. I always felt beautitiful.

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