In My Mama’s Clothes
It used to be, long ago,
in clothes she made I wore
Dresses then, jumpers too
knickers and a pinafore.
And as I grew, close to her size
her very own clothes she gave
Passed down to me, so I could be
stylish—my money to save.
There’s more to this than clothes you see,
So much more of her I wear
Vocal inflections, facial expressions,
hands waving, as I speak, in the air.
And when I stand, the rocking begins
Side to side I move
Then sitting down, I twirl my hair,
kicking cross-legged to the groove.
She and I both painters be
music lovers too!
Theatre, yarn and poetry
Beautiful things and True.
Now I find in my older years
the same plight has struck me I fear
My children and husband mock me
and think it ever so queer
That when I sit down in the evening
My head starts to loll about
I snooze and I snore like Nana
In my bathrobe, on the couch.
But if you stripped our bodies bare
similar scars you’d see
Though more on her—we’d both recount
God’s love in these memories.
*****These drawings, though of my mom a few years ago, could easily be of me, hairstyle and all!! I am so very grateful that she has been spared through three different cancers. Her presence with me during my own health crisis this spring was and is a precious memory I shall never forget. Thank you Mom.