Bring me that mother.
The one who fills up a pot
turns the flame up to hot
dials the phone for a long talk
and lets it boil over again.
It’s okay.
Bring me the one who wakes from a snore
plants his feet on the floor
grabs mismatched socks from a drawer
darts out the front door
running fast, late and stressed out again.
It’s okay.
Bring me the one who lives by herself
a chipped cup on a shelf
unaware of her wealth
power reach magic health
until she smiles at a stranger again.
It’s okay.
Bring me the one who sniffs change on the breeze
covers a sneeze
lets the air freeze
and knows the bloom will unfurl once again.
It’s okay. It’s always okay.
Bring me that mother who isn’t a mother.
Not the kind you think she would be.
Man, woman, mother or not.
It’s okay.
There’s no other mother to be.
Bring me that one.
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Thank you.
Comment by Marianne — October 19, 2009 @ 1:03 am
Ah!
My mother went to the Laissez-Faire School of Parenting. She did just fine. And so did I.
Matter of fact, she allowed me to stay home from school as a teenager and read Shakespeare in the quiet house, for no reason other than that I asked her if I could.
We did just fine. Thank you for this lovely piece. It's all good and it all belongs. Love!
Comment by Beth P. — October 19, 2009 @ 2:01 am
I love love love the fact that I can really picture you laughing at your own clever rhymes. and saying "it's okay."
*sigh*
Comment by Terri Fischer — October 20, 2009 @ 5:15 am