This poem was written looking through my three year old Grandson's eyes...

My Eyes Are Opened Wide

Sometimes I don't understand
What the word means called "family".
I try to figure out big people
And I cry inside of me.

Even tho we love the same Mommy
My Brothers name isn't the same.
And they tell me I have a Sister across town
But we don't even get to play games.

My Brother is calling him Daddy
But I call him by his name.
And how could it be that our Grandma and Grandpa
Are not even "really" the same?

And when I wake up on Christmas morning
My Daddy never see's Santa come.
And I wonder if I'll see my little sister
To give her a present, just one!

When I am cooking with Grandma and Grandpa
And everybody's coming over to eat
My Brother and Sister are never here
And that doesn't seem right to me.

I don't know how to tell big people
How my heart is feeling inside.
They may think that I don't know
But my eyes are opened wide.

Someday we'll go to the same school
And each other we will get to know.
Because somebody has to teach big people
The value that family holds.

Eileen Breedlove
28 October 2001