MOMMY

Sometimes I can hear your voice
clear as day in my ear
can remember your soft snort
when you thought something 
was beneath you or not worth
the breath to comment
can see your intense stare
into the cornfields as you
pondered life in general
and your own in particular
and smell the hint of musty
at the end of day when you came
to direct the after-school chores:
you: cook; you: clean; you: set the table
you: bring me some new knowledge
and I can hear your laughter
head thrown back the way you
let go belly shake good for
moments at a time, the way
it seemed like you'd never stop
laughing, and the way that
made us all laugh with you
I can see you bent over
sewing machine or lesson plan
or shelling peas or scaling fish
all with the same care
every switch every word
every hull every scale
given detailed attention
I can feel your body warm
sank into the couch as you
listen to me tell you what's important
today for me, watch your mouth
tighten at its corners, proof that 
you're solving the problem in your head
even if you don't intend to tell me
what's best--see you deciding I have
to figure it out for myself, but still
listening, really listening

Sometimes I can still hear your voice.

© Valerie Bridgeman

May 13, 2013

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