Tag Archives: love

The Night He Said I Was Not the Love of His Life

I’m sad I didn’t mean more to you
I’m sad I ever thought I did
I’m sad you saw me as a game to be played
I’m sad I am not the wonderful girl you couldn’t live without

You were not respectful of my being
You will not be demonized, so you can get off responsibilities hook
You were perfectly capable of doing that yourself, but
You chose me as unworthy of meriting attention

I am lost in the sadness of having believed you were true

This isn’t about hating you or being jealous
That ego unchecked could not listen to its own incorrectness
The sharpness of the wrongness of you is unbearably distinct
The need to surround yourself with only the fantastic has left me
To scramble for crumbs that brought no relief to this stomach’s pit

You will be fine, You always are
I will move on and be fine too
I will get over thinking you are a complete waste of a soul
Soon my head not caring if you are alive or dead
Always my heart will miss the jagged piece of me you stole

Thirteen’s Reunion

The table flooded in picnic food
Unnecessary to choose wisely
At this meal unified in shared
Genetics, a history of salads,
Modernized now in feta, bulgar
Fusilli pasta, plates holding
Just desserts, tiny fingers
Delicately pudgified holding
Cookies, and rolls that drop
Onto the ground, hesitating
In worry if anyone saw, safety
All around hugging each child
These new cousins for the day

Where is the aunt keeping
Track of the minutes, the collective
Allowed to catapult back into the
Pool giggling, dunking under
The rope tempting the deep end
Hours together joyful, uncles
Playing cards, sisters sharing
Tidbits about people whose
Names familiar but without
Meaning to young ears, bring
Snorts of laughter all around the
Pool’s edge, sadness then having no
Place to rest its desperate head

Now, easy entertainment still
In a deck of cards, a swing
A water tap where bright balloons
Soon discarded for easily filled
Solo cups dumped onto the
Closest target in mischievous giggles
The pool exchanged grudgingly
For a ball field, the audience smaller
Bleachers instead of deck chairs
Pigtailed heads still intent on
Tiny bubbles blown whether from
Yellow, orange or blue bottles
Still a happy song memory of a Rose

Descendants of thirteen
Gathering to share laughs, love
Invisible heart strings revisited
The noticed absence for each
Missing member of this
Group where the finally to arrive
Was always greeted with an
Hooray at last to seal the deal
Those giants of our childhood
Imprinted on grateful hearts
That forever want one more view of
Chocolate chip cookies perfectly
Lined up in a baker’s dozen

Essay in Regard for the Other Mothers in My Life

Funny thing about mothers is they come in all manner of unlikely forms.
We like to think of the woman who gave birth to us, but for some,
there was a woman with many thoughtful reasons for parting with a baby in a selfless effort to provide a home with another woman who becomes the real mother, feeding, caring for needs, wants, supporting the details of normal living that go unnoticed until today where maybe in a sentimental Hallmark card or a child’s Mother’s Day art effort, there is a listing of the reasons and the tasks fulfilled that we appreciate in our mothers; that all of us forget to acknowledge every other day.
The descriptions of how she makes the best cookies, she holds my hair when I am sick in the middle of the night, she always hugs me when I’m sad, and the coupons for one free hug, one free empty the dishwasher, and one free take out the recycling; cards beginning in duty, filled with affection, consistent in their ending of “I love you!”

I have a mother, she loves me, she cared for me, she is quietly supportive and I love her and know she did the best she could. Like we, all of us mothers try to do.
Some days we perform and fulfill all the duties, tasks, and affections better than other days;
always we try
Today, I am thinking of so many other people that gently but strongly remind me that we all have many mothers passing in and out of our days.

The sister-n-law that believes in you when no one else does and nudges
more from you when humiliated and scared, you just want to give up, clicking the thumbs up “like” when no one else does, saving us from the loneliness of feeling a failure. Jane, never plain, always notices, always sees potential, visibly and invisibly supporting so many of us, every day.

The boss, the Conservative, the guy’s guy, who might be mistaken for not caring, he always says you can do it, always reminds you not to be too hard on yourself, he understands, and never makes you feel badly for losing your cool and crying in utter frustration. John, simply good at seeing the good in other people who may not deserve his kindness.

The cousin, teaching other people’s children for over 25 years, the wonderful woman who not having physically given birth to a baby,
dotes, cares, loves, remembers, worries when she had problems of her own. Vicki, responding to an email and always saying yes.
Always interested, laughing and lovely in thought and action.

The friend you haven’t seen in years, the genuinely good mother you commiserated with when your sons were toddlers and you often felt trapped in the muck and mundane, the sleepless everyday routines, tantrums, and joys of motherhood. Marie, sincere, hugging you at
Wal-Mart reminding in stories of similarities you aren’t the only one.

The colleague and friend who always makes you laugh, tries to give you
another perspective, so you don’t feel badly when your work is rejected. Giver of ideas and possibilities, the holder of hope who keeps trying and only asks that you do the same. Gary, saying you will be wonderful on the days you feel completely mediocre, and want to crawl in a hole.

The childhood friend you have known for as long as you’ve known yourself, whose texts and calls brighten ever day. The one person you can call and will listen through the tears, loving you in your rightness and wrongness, the happy voice on every message. “Hey Booze, It’s Nance!” Always there in the darkest of days to say it will get better.

The husband, who wants what is best for you, and always keeps trying when he may not want to try that day, whose own father wasn’t an example of love in his approach. This man who doesn’t complain about work, who volunteers for everything. Terry, often unappreciated by the sons he does so much for, and a wife who should give him more credit.

There are so many examples of mothers in our lives. So many people
we won’t give a card to today, or take to breakfast, brunch or dinner.
This annual day when we remember and regard with such clarity
The goodness and altruism in motherhood, can also be a day
when we appreciate the love and support from the people who,
never our real mothers,
nourish us, care for us, and support us like a mother does.
I am grateful for the love and support of all my unlikely sometimes mothers.
I love you all even if not named this time.
And I ask everyone who may read this, “Who are yours?”

All or Nothing

To have it all
When all cannot
Be defined in
Human terms of
Understanding

Naturally
We search for more
Here, there, elsewhere
Attempting to
Rediscover

The loveliness
That was first found
Simply having
Part of the whole
Still mystery

In not knowing
Not feeling each
And every
Bit of what could
Be possible

To be nothing
Easier said
Than to be done
Existence proves
You were something

Even if now
You have left me
Alone, quiet
Everywhere
You are something

I Learned it from a Box of Books

I fell into a sea of brothers, often swimming
For dear life, secretly wishing for sisters, while
My friends with families overflowing in the feminine
Sharing clothes, make-up, bedroom discussions
Extolling the necessity of good hygiene, the hows
Mixed intimately with the whys leading to success
With boys, whose secrets I knew but didn’t understand
Girls counseled in giggles by their own safely through
Puberty’s passage while me with a borrowed set of books
My mother placed solemnly on the kitchen table for me
To read with their anatomically correct animations
Curiously provided me with the facts minus the fun
No depth for understanding intricacies and the power
In the possibility of love or preparation when advantages
Were given and taken and the shocking discovery made
That boys don’t love you after if they didn’t love you before
And not a book written gives comfort then; I have looked