Tuesday, July 26, 2005

My Mom Is 75

Energy expressed in a sly grin
Eyes twinkling
A giggle waiting to burst forth
She knows
She remembers
How to engage.
Even in her less than taut
She entices
And elderly not-so-gentlemen
Still smile and wonder
At her possibilities.
She's seen much,
denied much,
hurt much,
and given much.
A husband and a son
on the top of that list
she finally allowed herself
to question much.
But faith demands
she carry on.
And she does.
Famous at First Baptist,
she serves not so silently
but consistently
and walls could crumble
if she happened to miss the doors opening
for more than three Vols games in a row.
Wall space is at a premium
as her Depression era memories
demand she collect
and display.
in her acts of love and
she employs guilt with the finesse
of a fine artist.
Turnip greens and cornbread,
Sweet pickles one degree removed
from glucose
and tea to match
Pecan pies and
a taste for sweetness
she discovered late in life.
All giving with only
unspoken expectations of
praise or an equivalent bounty.
all this and so
much more.

"Life for me ain't been no crystal stair,"
my favorite poet once declared.
My mother agreed
and quotes him often.
But she smiles when she says it
Daring you to question
or believe.

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