now and then…
She was not the firstborn, rather the first that survived.
Death thieved a brother and sister, siblings with dew
still on them. Life ushered her to the front of the line.
She should have been third – traditionally the clown,
jokester, life-bringer to parties, rife with shenanigan.
But upon becoming first she put away such things.
She glued our world together, an organizing principal,
and I rise up to call her more than blessed. But every now
and then the original order is restored, if for only a wink.
I have heard my mother’s mirth.
On a March 1st many years ago my father entered time a distant second to a twin brother. He exited in the same manner.
The rising up of a son … his hearing … every now and then these bring a mother joy unspeakable.