Everything looks gray.
Ten days I have been ill.
My children did not honor me on Mothers Day.
Once I sang in a chorus.
That is over for three months.
I had my Girl Scout troop.
The last meeting is next week.
Yesterday he and his wife visited us.
They were so free, so relaxed.
Had just come from a cruise to the Bahamas.
That is right, for people our age.
Sit back, enjoy what life remains.
But I, stupid woman.
After a lifetime of work.
But also the pride of professionalism,
The fun of travel and exploration.
Wanted love.
So I gave it.
Two children, castaways, orphans of humans still alive
Who could or would not care for them.
They gave me joy,
A purpose.
I shared my home, my life, my heart.
Sweet and treasured love I got.
Love a mother knows.
That annual holiday that came in May
used to leave me wistful,
Or wishful.
Now it had meaning.
So many cards,
Silly drawings in crayon.
Oddly fashioned ceramic thingies
You pretend are beautiful
Because she made them.
So much laughter then,
So much caring,
You could see it in their eyes.
Now they just want the car keys.
They want their friends.
Cant stand Mom.
Argue, fight, sulk and insult.
I am an unnecessary obstacle to their desires.
Even all their friends hate me.
Mothers Day is now a day to
NOT make a cake,
NOT design a card,
Say nothing at all.
Or, if she recites some verse like
The Love You Bring,
Do not commit it to paper,
She lets the softly spoken words waft across
The space between us
Disappearing,
As if there were no certainty, no proof
Those feelings really existed.
Even though
I asked
For a copy.
And so tonight a name from long ago
Is spoken on the phone,
Inviting me to the 40-year reunion.
Sigh.
I will not go,
Nothing to show but empty arms.
Not even a card.
Ten days I have been ill.
My children did not honor me on Mothers Day.
Once I sang in a chorus.
That is over for three months.
I had my Girl Scout troop.
The last meeting is next week.
Yesterday he and his wife visited us.
They were so free, so relaxed.
Had just come from a cruise to the Bahamas.
That is right, for people our age.
Sit back, enjoy what life remains.
But I, stupid woman.
After a lifetime of work.
But also the pride of professionalism,
The fun of travel and exploration.
Wanted love.
So I gave it.
Two children, castaways, orphans of humans still alive
Who could or would not care for them.
They gave me joy,
A purpose.
I shared my home, my life, my heart.
Sweet and treasured love I got.
Love a mother knows.
That annual holiday that came in May
used to leave me wistful,
Or wishful.
Now it had meaning.
So many cards,
Silly drawings in crayon.
Oddly fashioned ceramic thingies
You pretend are beautiful
Because she made them.
So much laughter then,
So much caring,
You could see it in their eyes.
Now they just want the car keys.
They want their friends.
Cant stand Mom.
Argue, fight, sulk and insult.
I am an unnecessary obstacle to their desires.
Even all their friends hate me.
Mothers Day is now a day to
NOT make a cake,
NOT design a card,
Say nothing at all.
Or, if she recites some verse like
The Love You Bring,
Do not commit it to paper,
She lets the softly spoken words waft across
The space between us
Disappearing,
As if there were no certainty, no proof
Those feelings really existed.
Even though
I asked
For a copy.
And so tonight a name from long ago
Is spoken on the phone,
Inviting me to the 40-year reunion.
Sigh.
I will not go,
Nothing to show but empty arms.
Not even a card.