That's Mom

Born in a South Dakotan town,

My mom loved her Midwestern roots.

But after moving out West she never

Again put on her warm winter boots.

 

One thing you didn't want to do

Was cross my mother; that wasn't wise.

Get in her way or treat her rudely,

And watch out! Her temper would rise.

 

Pity the poor salesclerk who got

Snippy with Mom if Mom asked a question.

The salesclerk would have been told where to go,

And not with a mild, friendly suggestion.

 

Don't get me wrong; Mom was also

Kind and thoughtful and easygoing.

But she hated to be interrupted

When cooking, crafting, knitting, or sewing.

 

You learned how to stay out of her way--

Little tricks for surviving.

I was afraid that one day she'd end up

In jail for road rage when she was driving.

 

If someone pushed her very last button,

A litany of colorful words might gush

From out of her mouth--words that could

Even make a sailor blush.

 

But Mom loved doing things for others.

In fact, that was her main concern.

For family, relatives, friends, and neighbors,

She always wanted to do a good turn.

 

Watching her kids and grandkids at Christmas

Open their gifts was her greatest pleasure.

Her thoughtfulness and generosity

Definitely exceeded all measure.

 

She could become obsessed about things.

When she got an idea in her head,

You knew she'd eventually make it happen,

No matter what the rest of us said.

 

She often had to convince my dad

That it was time for something new.

One day she found a house on a hill,

And so they moved to that house with a view.

 

Then she became obsessed with travel

And persuaded my dad to buy an RV.

I don't know how many they wound up

Buying and selling; I think at least three.

 

We often ask ourselves what would have happened

If she had gone to the ER that night.

We catch the flu; then we get well.

That's what always happens, right?

 

Not in Mom's case. As it turned out,

Her stubbornness was her undoing.

If we do not open our eyes,

We can't see storm clouds brewing.

 

I see aspects of Mom in me

In how I sometimes think and behave,

In how my neuroses express themselves,

In what I like, in what I crave.

 

In situations, I often wonder

What Mom would have said or done.

I might not do what comes to mind,

But thinking about it is always fun.

 

(8-13-16)