Monday, December 5, 2016

Reflection: For My Mother




THE POEM


“Reflection: For My Mother”
October 6, 2006

All the memories exist somewhere between the busy days, packed schedules, children’s lives, school, and work
The love and laughter of my own now distant childhood reside in the stolen moments of reflection
I close my eyes, turn down the hyper-speed of my mind and reflect
It is to the long, slow, easy days of summer I return
I am a teenage girl sitting with my mother on our front porch
I see us huddled together in waves of conversation and laughter on warm summer evenings
Engaged in talks of my heart’s wishes on love and life’s possibility
My constant wondering and questioning if my heart would be fulfilled, if it would remain unbroken
I can hear even now my mother’s wise countenance and certain reassurances that life will always work out
She just knew that
I sometimes doubted her, resisted her insight but wanted to believe her
I reflect now that she just knew
Not necessarily that life turned out
But that we do survive intact, better, wiser, happier
And that laughter is the best healer
That it takes a thousand muscles to frown
And just one to smile
The wishes of the heart may need to grow up
Still her counsel that life works its way out was true
It has
Witness the love and the connection and coming together
To celebrate and cherish the ones we love
To cherish the Mother we love
I’m attached to the reflections of those summer evenings
As I am attached to her, my mother
And to those sacred memories shared with my mother many years ago as a hopeful young woman
When she had the wisdom to emulate resilience and innocence
This wonderful world of memories forms me, molds me, and shapes me
As a woman who has, too, become a mother
And the best that I can wish for and dream of now
Is to offer to my children
The same wise words that life will indeed always work out
That it takes fewer muscles to smile than to frown
And trust that someday they, too, can share a similar reflection

Thank you mom for it all!

No comments:

Post a Comment