Thursday, October 3, 2019
Happy Birthday, Mom!
Mom was often lost in her thoughts. I regret never asking her about her dreams. I'm sure she had some. She liked to write. She enjoyed music and dancing. She loved animals. One time she told me that she wanted to go to Africa to see the lions in the wild. It never happened.
By the time Mom was in her early seventies, she had dementia. She was only 76 (just twelve years older than me) when she passed away. I think about that a lot. It both motivates and scares me, and it's one of the reasons I keep working toward my writing dreams. Mom inspired me more than she ever knew. She did the best she knew how, and I'm grateful for the good times we shared.
This poem is for her.
staring out the window it seems
my mother is lost somewhere between
us and her own private dreams
she once told me she'd like to see
Africa where lions live uncaged-- free
just the way they were meant to be
and she wants to write a book someday
but she's just to busy to start it today
with kids to raise and bills to pay--
sometimes I think she secretly wishes
for freedom from housework, diapers, dishes
always the giver of goodnight kisses--
suddenly seeing me standing there,
she calls me over to her chair--
and points to a piece of sky where
the Evening Star waits with a vow--anything
is possible-- her loving smile says everything
as she beings to sing--
-Linda Kulp Trout
A big thank you to Cheriee for hosting today's Poetry Friday at Library Matters.