I Grit My Teeth and Fake a Smile


I grit my teeth and fake a smile
And no one knows it all the while

My life is spent in waiting rooms
And stressing over copays due
My back is screaming, feet are numb
But to share my pain makes me feel dumb

I pawn my treasures and count pennies
To pay doctors bills and pharmacies
My husband’s based in Tennessee
So rarely can he care for me

Spanish Fork life gives me few perks
When Salt Lake City has all the work
Full-time employment may be a dream
When my pain daily makes me scream

I’m truly blessed to be Rosie’s mom
But she has nightmares that I’m GONE

My neighbors want to help my life
With MLM schemes for a stay-at-home wife
Unless it’s free, I can’t drink superjuice
So I’ll cry in bed, reading blogs like Dooce

Now that I’ve moaned and cried a bit
I’ll wipe my eyes, and publish it

The Dainty Wildflower

The Dainty Wildflower*

When it comes to youthful affairs of the heart
Though my loves have been but a few
It doesn’t take prideful impressing by him
A sweet romance will always do

When I reflect upon the wildflowers
On the path on which I go
Makes me ponder much of simple times
When hearts would let young lovers know

“To determine the worth of a goodly man”
Said the lass with a delicate air
“A dozen long-stemmed roses from he
will determine the perfect pair”

One shan’t judge a book by its cover
but in roses the belief isn’t so thought
Crimson passion, pink child-life fashion,
Gold-flamed petals be eternally sought

If I were to discern a future fellow
by a flower yellow stained
For a life of selfless giving
Only a friend could I take his name

The most delicate rose, it’s white shining remains
the pure, untouched bloom could very well claim
Loving devotion for a righteous eternity’s bliss
Temple covenants pledged with no shame

Yet as I admire on this heavenly day
God’s creations well aged and fresh new
I yearn for devoted companionship
A worthy mate living life, loving true

My eyes don’t need sight of rare flowers
Money has only Earthly concern
I gaze at each delicate wildflower bud
Simplicity has caused my wild heart to turn

Sincerity’s flower will win my true heart
To a man whose devotion’s unmarred
As we walk down the path of the rest of our lives
He will pluck me up dainty wildflowers

July 1, 1996
Nicole Marie Watson

***
There is a very specific reason I chose a waterfall instead of a wildflower for this post. It was written when I was 16, while hiking around Silver Falls State Park in Silverton, Oregon. It was an incredibly gorgeous day, and despite all my jaunts to Silver Falls….I recall this day as the most beautiful. I walked off the beaten path a bit near South Falls, sat on a large mossy rock, pulled out my notebook, and was immediately touched with the inspiration for this poem.

I am a certifiable hopeless romantic. I can’t remember ANY time in my life where I wasn’t “in love” or had a crush. I idealize relationships, foolishly look past faults, and let my heart grow attached very quickly. I love seeing people in love…the tender glances, the affection, the chivalry, the exploding smiles and blushing cheeks. When I played kissing tag in elementary school, kissing wasn’t gross to me…I liked it because it gave me the chance to be kissed. I love to be “in love.” I am completely in love my husband, but that does not diminish the emotion that I have felt in the past for other men. While some girls grow up dreaming of their ideal fairy-tale weddings, I didn’t really put much thought into the actual wedding. I just wanted a man to love and cherish me for the rest of my life.

I wrote this poem intending to give it to my future husband on my wedding day. But the notebook got tucked away in a box at some point, and I forgot about it. I quickly married in my first year of college, and five years later it ended in divorce. All the hopes and dreams of eternity that I’d idealized for years were splintered, and I wondered if I’d ever find a man that would make me as happy as those dreams.

Around the time I met Taylor, I found the poem and let him read it. His response was so generic….something to the effect of “Yeah, that’s pretty good.” Taylor’s sweet and romantic in his own way, like the numerous love mix CDs he made while we were dating, but it wasn’t the response I expected. He probably didn’t realize how important this poem was to me. I was upset, so back into a box it went until I uncovered it again this week.

I think I now dedicate this poem to the IDEA of the love I wanted for my future; the idea that inspired me to hold fast to my chastity. There have been many bumps along the road, many selfish jerks and users. I’ve been a selfish user. I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve broken hearts. As an adult, I believe that the sum of all the love from those broken hearts has given me the capacity to love more.Tennyson said, ” ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.” To this thought, I heartily agree.