Selection 16 of
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I Will If I Want Toby Nancy Clark-- For Marilee --And the set of her chin left us quite unprepared To see what might ensue as she went undeterred. Not "I may" or "I can," but "I WILL" were her words. Every day several changes of outfits she chose, Yet one day she emerged with an absence of clothes, Running grinningly all through the house with a shout, "Look at me! I am going to let it show out!" "I want all the shoes out of the closet," she said, Then she wore one white shoe with the other of red. If she woke in the night, she might get fully dressed So her waking-up tasks could be counted one less! Despite hearing "No!" she'd directly proceed To the dog's dish to drink and then, feeling the need, She might empty the cupboard of all of its pans Or consider a "nice place" to try out her crayons. We would have been warned if her thoughts had been voiced: "I will sort through this candy and pick out my choice." "I will stomp in this puddle!" "I'll spit out these peas!" "I will play in my bubble bath long as I please!" At her bedtimes, we cuddled and coaxed and connived, But nevertheless when the moment arrived To lie down for the night, we were put to the test. Her agenda at bedtime did not include rest. Neither "nummy" to chew on nor friend teddy bear Nor an extra night light nor a slow rocking chair Did the trick. Then one night she stood holding the rail In her crib. All our efforts were to no avail. We left her then, thinking she'd cry off to sleep, But she jumped from her crib in a somersault leap, Going head over heels, she crashed down to the floor But got up--and still crying--made right for her door. She repeated her acrobat trick, and we knew That the crib was her problem, and nothing would do But install her right then in the big double bed. "I will if I want to" had filled up her head. One September when she was just six months past two, We were settling in to a house in a new Neighborhood, busy shuffling boxes around-- All at once, she was gone and nowhere to be found. My shouts were in vain as I frantically tore Down the road on a run. She'd gone off to explore On her own, she explained, peddling fast on her trike, "I'm taking my own walk to see what I like." As her toddler age faded, her determination Was often in conflict with cooperation. A willful intent to take charge now appeared, And she entered the era of "things commandeered." As a pre-teen she knew if she wanted to quit Her piano instruction, we'd probably hit Her with reasons and deals to oppose her objection, So she crafted a way to effect circumspection. On a ride home just after a basketball game, She was chattering on, "Susan's wearing the same Jeans as I am--Those bleachers are so hard for sitting-- Oh--I called Mrs. Heaton and told her I'm quitting." There were clubs needing leaders, school projects to plan; There were speaking events and performance in band. Then she shouldered the student direction of plays And with clear-cut authority, managed the stage. Fully armed with a penchant for taking control And a truckload of paraphernalia, her goal Was to transform a dorm room, to make it a tight And efficient arrangement, both cozy and bright. She'd build schedules, set deadlines, and fit in some fun; She'd apply perseverance to get a job done. She would lead an excursion, invent a surprise; In a pinch she would stop and regroup, improvise. From her college life on to a teaching career If we listened to words beneath words, we might hear, "I will implement, manage, control, and devise. I will organize, undertake, plan, supervise." Each new bud on a branch is wrapped tightly at first, Bound up hard in itself, getting ready to burst. Thus was "I" center-stage in her youthful intent, But as blooming proceeded, her will would be bent. More for others than self she now summons her drive, And in perfectly capable manner, she strives To take charge of events, make things happen, and lends An embraceable brilliance to polish those ends. There are some who'll acknowledge, they'll know right away, And others--in time--who will probably say, "Thanks a lot." And this poem, too, wants her to know We applaud and approve: "Carry on!" "WILL it so!" |
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