Today my mother’s voice seemed tired,
64 and still working, insurance and bills
Don’t wait for anyone
Night in and day out, the hospital she’s at
Ran out of masks, again, and she is scared
She tells me my dad is OK
No virus, yet, but 28 residents in his nursing home
have died, and she is scared
She says she misses her grandkids,
All 7 of them, that she wants to hug them
And kiss them and give them candy and gifts
But they may be a carrier, and so she is scared.
She asks me how I’m doing, one state away
And I tell her I’m fine, we are at home, safe
Yet she is still scared.
I tell her to remember all the days we had
When she didn’t know if we’d make it
To the end of the week with the little she made
Or to remember how she’d pull off an entire
Filling meal with only 3 ingredients
I remind her of the time her father passed away
A few months before my wedding and how she
Smiled throughout, her strength showing,
Despite how she missed him at that moment
I tell her so many things about growing up
About how she inspires me, about her love and compassion
About my children and their success and failures
and even about the weather
And about the future and about everything in between
I say so much, except the one thing I needed to say
Because I know it will break her down in tears
And I am so far away and can’t offer her a hug,
No one can.
And because it can’t be true, not now and not for a while.
I want to say, “Mom, I’m here for you”.
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