CONVERSATION WITH MY MOTHER’S PICTURE–for Mother’s Day
by Linda Rodriguez
It’s
spring, and the holiday to honor mothers is right around the corner.
I lost my mother, whom I adored and with whom I had a fraught
relationship, before she turned fifty, so this holiday is always
difficult for me, even though that was forty years ago.
spring, and the holiday to honor mothers is right around the corner.
I lost my mother, whom I adored and with whom I had a fraught
relationship, before she turned fifty, so this holiday is always
difficult for me, even though that was forty years ago.
As
we approach Mother’s Day, the airwaves are filled with commercials
for gifts for mothers and suggestions for special ways to “spoil
Mom” and celebrate this May holiday. You can’t escape them. So,
this poem is for all those who, like me, have lost their mothers and
find the day’s celebrations bittersweet.
CONVERSATION
WITH MY MOTHER’S PICTURE
WITH MY MOTHER’S PICTURE
You
and Dad were entirely happy here—
and Dad were entirely happy here—
you
in purple miniskirt, white vest and tights
in purple miniskirt, white vest and tights
(you
always wore what was already too young
always wore what was already too young
for
me), Dad in purple striped pants,
me), Dad in purple striped pants,
a
Kansas State newsboy’s cap
Kansas State newsboy’s cap
made
for a bigger man’s head.
for a bigger man’s head.
You
both held Wildcat flags and megaphones
both held Wildcat flags and megaphones
to
cheer the football team who,
cheer the football team who,
like
the rest of the college, despised you
the rest of the college, despised you
middle-aged
townies, arranging for their penicillin
townies, arranging for their penicillin
and
pregnancy tests and selling them
pregnancy tests and selling them
cameras
and stereos at deep discount.
and stereos at deep discount.
But
you were happy
you were happy
in
this picture, before they found
this picture, before they found
oat-cells
in your lungs.
in your lungs.
After
the verdict, he took you to Disneyland,
the verdict, he took you to Disneyland,
this
man who married you and your five children
man who married you and your five children
when
I was fifteen. He took you cross-country
I was fifteen. He took you cross-country
to
visit your family, unseen
visit your family, unseen
since
your messy divorce.
your messy divorce.
He
took you to St. Louis
took you to St. Louis
and
Six Flags Over Texas and to Topeka
Six Flags Over Texas and to Topeka
for
radiation treatments.
radiation treatments.
I
don’t think he ever believed
don’t think he ever believed
you
could die. Now he’s going
could die. Now he’s going
the
same way. And none of us
same way. And none of us
live
in that Wildcat town with the man
in that Wildcat town with the man
who
earned his “Dad” the hard way
earned his “Dad” the hard way
from
suspicious kids and nursed
suspicious kids and nursed
your
last days. For me, this new dying
last days. For me, this new dying
brings
back yours, leaving me only this image
back yours, leaving me only this image
of
you both cheering for lucky winners.
you both cheering for lucky winners.
Published
in Heart’s Migration (Tia Chucha Press, 2009)
in Heart’s Migration (Tia Chucha Press, 2009)
Beautiful, thank you for this.
I can’t stop crying. This could be my mother, down to the oat cells. I love you, Linda. Thank you.
powerfully sad and beautiful at the same time….heart to both of you/all of you