Annual Mother's Day Poem (2018)

Dear Mom,

There are some who bemoan those who write the same

ole’ same ole’, as though one should move

on to new ideas to jot down in pretty-rhythmic patterns.

As though the whole of existence is never stuck upon

singular thought.

But, I will never stop thoughts of you helping me up,

holding me long enough for a feeling of the earth

again.  Maybe I’ve relied on you too much, over these years,

but it’s a comfort to know you were there.

I’m never afraid of letting you know what you’ve meant

and my heart breaks for those who don’t get to continue to say

because tragedy struck them hard.  I’m thankful

that you’re here, and I know that if I lost you today

I would have an orchestra of songs:

Our memories in my head.

Homeschooled me in the first grade, emphasized

my alphabet, and got me caught up on words so I

was addicted to them.

I’d sneak a string cheese at Hazekamps,

thinking you were letting me get away with it,

till years later but you gave the empty wrapper

at the checkout counter.

How you brought home tomatoes, and with a little

reluctance let me have the last piece even though they

were your favorite.

Fighting for me back in fourth grade when I was afraid

of new teacher, even though I had to stay in class you had tried,

and it turned out fine.  I chose same teacher for next

year too.

Times when I begged – pushed by big brother

– and you gave in more times than you’d wanted.  You

should know that I’ve always been grateful

that I even had that chance

to bug you.

You’ve Got Mail, with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan

that you loved to watch, sweet and happy endings

I grew away from, but you should know I’ve always loved

that movie because of how much you did.

Or how I – well we all - spy you crying at movie sad spots,

we turned our heads like the Exorcist to see

if you were streaming tears,

which nine time out of ten,

 you were.

It’s a cliché, to say you were my first number one

fan, still hold that title even if my words have a little bit

more cursing than before.  I’ve admired you and the everlasting

support you’ve shown to all of us, and maybe I’m a bit too close

but I look around and I say – despite critiques of your parenting style

 – that you did alright.

Detractors and critics say you did this wrong or that,

and how maybe we relied on you too much, but I don’t

think anyone has the answer fully, I don’t think anyone

can claim the best route, but your road was and is full

of unabashed support and love.

Only regret is that there was one less of us in this world

to know what a wond