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Not sure how to interpret but anything to do with a cassette interests me ...

BIG LIKE
❤❤❤

Yeah, sorry I guess it doesn't make much sense. It's both specific and vague, all about the feeling... maybe I'll explain someday.
For now, I'll just cherish the BIG LIKE. 😊 Thanks for reading.
❤️k

Dearest BT,
This thought-provoking emotional write is enigmatic yet explicit in sharing a childhood revelation.
 It echos a very personal childhood experience of mine.
My dad and I had an estranged relationship.
 I was the youngest of 10 and through the estrangement he remained my hero.
Maybe it was my imagination going array (imagined slights) that I let the little things( paper cuts) hurt the most.
But I know that I had always been treated differently.
I wrote about it in one of my earlier word salads here on DUP.
Your final line,
'It was supposed to make her feel cherished''
 is Resounding beyond words.
Before my dad past he left me something to finally recognize me as his son.....
Damn I am sorry I am using your thread as therapy, hahaha.
The perplexity of this submission defines "Imperfect Perfection".
 !!!BRILLIANT!!!

Dear Feet,
Thank you for sharing that. It's why I write & share... sending those "test shots across the bow" to see if anyone will connect. You connected, and I'm grateful. 🙏

I was the classic GenX latchkey kid, with all the emotional baggage that implies. When I was about 6 or 7, my mom used to leave a recording of herself reading a story to keep me company when I came home from school to eat lunch all alone. Bless her for trying. When that last line came to me (unexpectedly) this morning, it made me cry. The imagined slights and silences are more current events, and writing this helped me connect the dots and realize why they hurt, if that makes any sense. So, welcome to MY therapy session! Thanks again for your openness.
❤️k

Hi BK

I read this a couple of times over.
Reading over the comments and your replies - I recognized the bravery in this whole
piece so than you for sharing:)
Writing is therapeutic for me as well.
When I was a kid I was obsessed with figuring how to record myself
on a cassette. LOL
Finally came home after school and there it was - in my bedroom - a stereo that
had two cassette slots for recording and listening.  My mom bought
for me as a surprise:)  
Great memory so thank you.

Hi A,
My best friend and I spent many hours recording all kinds of silly stuff on cassette... pretend radio shows, farts... good times! 😆

Yeah, this came out pretty fast & furious, and that usually means it's something scary to put words to. I have to post while I still feel brave.... it's worth it when I get supportive reactions from my poetry friends. Thanks for joining my therapy session! LOL  I'm glad it brought up some good memories for you.
❤k

Awesome.  
Not to take away from your write, but the ending caught me off guard. It's good, yes. But it brought up a memory of mine.  My dad was a trucker awhile. And while I was in the Army, he would record me "letters" while he drove, on his old cassette player.  (He hated newer technology). I kept one just so I could listen to his letters.  
  I should have kept them, at least one.   He is long gone.  And so are those.
You never think that superman can die, so you don't prepare.  But he did, and I wasn't ready.

Awesome write.  You have no duds.

This one sure seems to be a memory jogger. Recorded messages are the best.

Not sure if you know that my mom died unexpectedly a few months back... I wasn't ready either. We've recently finished clearing out her things. So in addition to just the sad futility of my "past mom" doing her best to help a lonely kid feel less abandoned, this is layered with missing my mom in the present. Yesterday was a bit of a rough day, I had to process this after I wrote it.

Just wait til I do the NaPo thing again in April, then you'll see plenty of duds!
❤k

Edit: I forgot to say THANK YOU. For reading, and sharing, and your kind encouragement always.

I am doubting the dud portion of your next April's writes.  You've got plenty of time to write them starting now and keep them in a folder at the ready.  So there!  

ahhh cheeky monkey 🐒  
 
reading this kinda made me feel like we might have been really great pals if we went to the same school together, this brought up a lot of memories for me perhaps not in quite the same way,  
 
when my bestfriend died her mother bequeathed her journal to me which had her poetry in it, we used to write together around her house too, it's amazing how possessions can hold so many memories and mixed emotions or all the emotions,  
 
there's nothing in this poem that comes across vague or doesn't make sense, it's all the senses and emotions a human being can feel in a moment or in a moment of realisation,  
 
sending you a hug and a banana sandwich your way  🍌 🥪  
 
love atcha ❤️  
 
-ethan

Hi ethan!
I have no doubt we would have found plenty of mischief to keep us happy as kids together....

That's a cool gift from your best friend's mom. I've found some of my own mom's writings in her stuff as we cleared out her apartment recently... I wish we had shared writing when she was around. She always asked to see my poetry, and I deflected, and missed the chance to go there with her.... it's hardest with the people I'm closest to, for some reason.

Anyway, I digress...
Thank you for the love on this write, I'm glad you connected with it. Lots of love back atcha!
❤k

Dear K,

This made me think of those tucked away silenced memories you haven’t thought of in years- that come out of the blue and just “rush the door” in terms of overwhelming thoughts and feelings. How to process and make sense of them all, I know not. I do know this poem was as sensitive and raw as they get. I love the story behind the tapes and sandwiches. This is an amazing poem to come from this experience. Absolutely touching  write. H🌷

Dear H,
You nailed it. Raw & sensitive is how I felt all day after this. But sometimes going backwards is where we find the answers to things that bug us in the here & now, and this did that to some extent. Some people say "writing is therapy" in some sort of derivative way, as if that's a bad thing.... but if other people connect with it too, isn't it something more? I dunno. Just trying to justify my little bit of exhibitionism, I guess! We're all just people with a whole lot of shit on the inside, sometimes we have to exhume and inspect some of it.
I'm rambling again. Thank you for reading and for your kindness, always.
❤k

I had a rather unconventional upbringing, perhaps...  K

But yes...  I don't know that I was a latchkey kid exactly...  

But my close friend was...

He got into music...  And things like cassettes and cassette players became sacred...

I think...  It wasn't unusual though...  As we were "raised off of rock and rap." (in the words of Eminem...)

I feel like "latchkey kids" connect on a deeper level to things...  Perhaps out of necessity...

Which generates a certain...  Intensity...  (I think that comes through in your poetry & music...)

Through my friend...  I really learned a much deeper appreciation for things...

I feel like you have that same infectious depth of perception as well K...

Hm, interesting theory about latchkey kids, I'll have to give that some thought.
Yes, intensity I have, in spades. It's not easy to live with. Thank goodness for artistic outlets.
Thanks for the read and kind words.
❤k

Ok, now I get it, duh
I had a feeling it was about the start of your singing career buy of course there was more.  I used to talk to my mom often, she lived in Florida when my parents retired.  Several years before she passed I started to save her voice mails because she was older and with Parkinsons and I knew her time was limited.  After she passed I thought I would have a tough time listening to them but the opposite happened and they brought me joy .....  

Thank you k

Lots of ❤❤❤

Don't worry, there's no "duh" about not getting it, it's not exactly spelled out. The slights & silences part is still intentionally cryptic. 😉

I wish I still had those story recordings. There are a few other recordings of my mom's voice in the family things, but those ones were just for me...

I'm sure I deleted a voicemail from mom just days before she passed. And then rushed her through the phone conversation that came after the message. Who knew?!  It's lovely that you have those messages and they bring you joy. 😊

Thanks
❤❤k