Almost Like the First Day of School
She held me longer than usual this time
as we said our goodbyes.
She rubbed the clay of my back, sculpting
my shape in the space before her so
she could stand in that kitchen after I drove away
and remember clearly what she once made.
We both cried. Hers were familiar tears,
those of parting. She is my good mother.
Mine flowed from fears that I may have
lived a careless life. I am her oldest son who
lives now beyond the edge of the drive.
So beautiful. Mothers too worry that they may have lived careless lives – and we all live beyond the edge of the drive. Whew.
Thank you, Sue. We probably all worry about careless lives, huh?
whew.
Thanks!
deep deep sigh… deep sigh.
Nancy, that’s what I did as I drove away…deep sighs.
What Sue said. Yeah, that. Thank you. Glad to see your name in my inbox again this morning.
Hi, Diana. Its nice to know somebody’s glad to see my name.
Breathless beauty
Thank you very much, Elizabeth.
Very tender! I love it!
Hi, Deena. It felt tender to write.
I thought nothing of leaving my parents until I became a mother and realized the unwitting and careless pain I caused. Perhaps my son shall write a poem like this one day and redeem just a bit of the love spilt out of my split open heart.
Joyce, ‘perhaps’ is one of my favorite words…its a carrier of hope.
I wish my mother had loved like this, but she didn’t. Such a tender poem.
My reaction exactly, My dad as well. Beautiful but for some of us bittersweet.
Bob, thanks for commenting, even in the bittersweet.
Thank you, Peg.
To be loved and released is a precious gift. I like how this poem captures a bit of the pain children can feel as we wonder what we have done with the life our parents’ gave us.
Elena, I wonder that more and more with each passing day…thanks for your comment.