When I Was A Little Girl…

all of eight years old to be exact, I wrote a poem to be entered into my PTA’s Cultural Arts Contest. I won First Place. My parents were so proud of my accomplishment that they paid for the poem to be custom framed with the first place ribbon and hung it in the hallway of our home for everyone to see.

Rummaging through some boxes the other day, I found the poem. It’s terrible (see below), but at the same time, I was touched at my naive sweetness even at eight that being a nice friend was the most important thing in the world. However, I’m more touched at how my parents spent probably close to one hundred dollars to mat and frame a poem written in marker on notebook paper and written by an eight year old because they believed in her and wanted her to know her worth not just in our family but as a writer.

I think we have a tendency to forget our worth and standards particularly with all the distractions of this world. Friends and family can remind us of our value in a way that money, jobs, or the opinions of strangers never could. I have been constantly touched by the people that love me and care for me encouraging me as a writer, mother and in life. I am surrounded by an amazing group of protection, support and love for which I will be forever grateful.

I smile as I read this poem, and I hope that I can live up to my 8 year old standards of a “nice friend,” because I have so many beautiful examples who will never let me settle for anything but First Place.  (verbatim spelling grammar mistakes and all)

Raggady Ann Peter Pan

Raggady Ann and Peter Pan would play

Under a Sun Ray

Theyed run under the sun ray

And have fun all Day

If I could be their friend,

I would play, too!

But if I were there friend,

I would be nice.

First Place Winning Poem


Cara's 2nd Grade School Picture


About Jen Cross

Born and raised in Dallas, TX, I enjoy writing books about life in Dallas and relationships and their many ups and downs.
This entry was posted in Children, Family, Friends, Parents, The World in which We Live, Writing Life and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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