Random Thoughts of Amy Potts

The other day on my way home from work I noticed a bank of dark clouds rolling in from the west.  I was thinking that I needed to hurry home to let the dog out before the storm.  She is afraid of storms and at the first rumble of thunder she runs for cover under the bed.  But as I turned the last corner toward home, I noticed how dramatically beautiful the clouds were.  Still thinking about the dog I headed on up the street toward home.  Suddenly I realized that I would never see that same cloud formation again.  I needed to stop and snap that picture.  I didn’t have my “real camera” with me, but I did have my phone and the 8 megapixel camera takes decent pictures.  So I turned my car around and found the perfect place to take that picture.  I’m glad I did because only seconds later, the hole where the sun was peeking through was gone.  If I had not stopped, I would have missed it altogether.  I have had many opportunities over the course of time when I have said, I should stop

You come in the dark of the night or by day.  Damned by some, loved by others Gently you make your way to us.  Sometimes there is only a hint of your presence.  Sometimes you are altogether unseen.  The sun lights up the morning sky and erases any sign that you were near.  Where you are not expected, there is an unusual calm and the world seems to stop as we try to figure out what to do.  You are an unexpected and perhaps unwelcomed guest.  You make newspaper headlines. The media world is ablaze with pictures of the havoc that followed your visit.  There are  others who publish pictures of your beauty. If you were to come just one at a time, you would be unnoticed by most.  Flake upon shimmering flake you fall from the sky.  You join with the wind to make us stop, wait and listen.  One little flake is not like any other that falls from the sky.  When you join forces, you hold so much power over our busy lives. You are beautiful and terrifying all

I imagine a woman on Valentine’s Day in 1964 giving birth to her sixth child with the sudden realization that it was a girl.  This was more than she could handle after having five boys.  She was confused, she was worried and postpartum depression set in and it was strong.  She gave birth to a little girl and in the midst of confusion, chaos and depression she gave her a name that means “beloved”. When I was a little girl I thought that the name Amy was a little girl’s name.  I couldn’t imagine growing up with that name.  It bothered me so much that I cried to my dad explaining that I would be made fun of with this name.  It was some time later that we were sitting outside, as we often did in our little rural town, and we watched a woman ride by on her horse.  My dad said, “Do you see that grown-up woman? Her name is Amy”.  My dad knew two things about me; I loved horses and I was still scared about growing up with this name.  Was he telling the truth that day?  I don’t know