Mom by Kimberly Stutevoss
It is very rare that I go home to
See my parents. I know that my mom would
Like me to visit more, but I do when
I can. We have never been close and there
Often are fights. The last time that I
Was home we exchanged pleasantries but then
The small talk stopped and a silence enclosed
And wrapped around us making it awkward.
I remember the first time I saw her
As a child. She could do no wrong. As small
Children we idolize our parents and
Think that they are gods on earth. But as we
Grow up we see their flaws and realize the
Mistakes they may have made and that they are
Not gods, but they are human beings like
Us. As a kid my mom read to me a
Lot. She read all kinds of books, but my true
Favorite was the one with the quote, "I'll
Love you for always, forever my baby
you'll be." It is a sweet story really,
A mother loving and caring for her
Son and of course the mother gets older
And it is then the son who loves and takes
Care of the mother. When I went home I
Noticed my mother getting older.
It'll soon be me taking care of her
Telling her, "I'll love you for always, for-
Ever my mother you'll be."
________________________________
Mothers
the last time i was home
to see my mother we kissed
exchanged pleasantries
and unpleasantries pulled a warm
comforting silence around
us and read separate books
i remember the first time
i consciously saw her
we were living in a three room
apartment on burns avenue
mommy always sat in the dark
i don’t know how i knew that but she did
that night i stumbled into the kitchen
maybe because i’ve always been
a night person or perhaps because i had wet
the bed
she was sitting on a chair
the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through
those thousands of panes landlords who rented
to people with children were prone to put in windows
she may have been smoking but maybe not
her hair was three-quarters her height
which made me a strong believer in the samson myth
and very black
i’m sure i just hung there by the door
i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady
she was very deliberately waiting
perhaps for my father to come home
from his night job or maybe for a dream
that had promised to come by
“come here” she said “i’ll teach you
a poem: i see the moon
the moon sees me
god bless the moon
and god bless me”
i taught it to my son
who recited it for her
just to say we must learn
to bear the pleasures
as we have borne the pains
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