Friday, August 5, 2011

Mom Boxes Rerun

I was going to write something new for the Poetry Jam. Chris from Enchanted Oak has asked us to write a poem about the loss of something beloved. I wanted to maybe talk about my beloved lunch bag that I lost a few months ago, or my mobility, or the more recent loss of my mother-in-law. And I might come up with something new later on because the topic intrigues me. However, for now, I'm bringing out a poem I wrote almost a year ago. I didn't change the passage of time in the poem, but if you're keeping track, it would now be six years, one hundred thirty seven days and one hour, give or take.


Mom Boxes

It's been
five years, one hundred
forty two days and
four and one half hours
(give or take)
since you left.

I have boxes that
store my memories -
good and bad.
I sometimes mix them up -
thinking I'm opening
the 30th birthday box
and there you are -
five years, one hundred
forty two days and
four and one half hours
ago (give or take).

Frantic,
I open boxes
willy nilly
only to find you
there in all of them.

Here is my wedding day,
and here is that trip
to look at colleges,
and the time I busted my chin,
and the time you came to Africa,
and there you are just beyond
the window where I can't
see you anymore.

I am a woman grown
and it's been
five years one hundred
forty two days and
four and one half hours
(give or take),
and obviously
(obviously),
we aren't done yet,
are we?

Please go here to read other elegies.

18 comments:

  1. Oh, I like this a lot. Shows me what I wanted in a mom and never had. And by the way, what's up with that hair?

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  2. I know! Isn't it hysterical? I guess I thought I was Sheena Easton or something. Heh.

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  3. God, it doesnt get easier, does it? I lost my own mum three years ago and I still have moments when I expect to see her walk through my door. A beautiful piece, thanks for sharing it.
    ps. I had hair like yours too, it was definitely a Sheena Easton look at the time.

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  4. It will be five years next month since I last saw my mom, too. My memories of her are everywhere.

    Yes! I see the raven hair. You would look most excellent in a shawl of brilliant rich royal blue. Hmmm.

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  5. such a wonderful tribute to your mom!

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  6. I remembeer my mother telling me when SHE was in her 60's that one never gets over missing one's mom. I think that's true. Your poem was authentic, touching, written from the heart. I am glad you shared it here.

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  7. This one really grabs me, Dana. I'm living on borrowed time with my parents, but then, I guess we're all here on borrowed time, anyway.

    This is a wrenching poem. Really good.

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  8. Indeed, we are all on borrowed time, Karen. My mom told me the same thing Mary's mom told her, and now she's gone. We live on as best we can, but the loss is real and enduring.

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  9. What a beautiful poem! After 33 years without my mom I still find myself sometimes being stopped in my tracts remembering.... I guess nothing or nobody can ever replace a mother.

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  10. What a beautiful poem! After 33 years without my mom I still find myself sometimes being stopped in my tracts remembering.... I guess nothing or nobody can ever replace a mother.

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  11. Most of my Mom boxes are of things her mother sent me after she died- a lot of stuff in there is from before I can remember. My random, "where did THAT come from??" memories can stop me in my tracks, though. I had a weird thought yesterday- I am only 10 years younger now than my mom was when she died. Borrowed time.

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  12. Ahh... so sad and touching, yet a reminder that we all live on through special keepsakes and memories.

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  13. heavy...i wonder do we all pack those boxes...for me what makes this so effective is the counting of days...that is haunting...

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  14. yes, we do keep a lot of stuff in those boxes.

    I like it...the number of days works well here.

    thanks for sharing this ~

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  15. When my mother died, a total stranger told me that losing a mother is a "Life shifting event." And so it has proved to be. Your poem is a lovely piece of life-shiftingness.

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  16. Such a touching poem, Dana. My mom and I have never been close, and for the first time ever she gave me something very personal for my birthday, and I just don't know what to think. Maybe I will miss her this much. I hope so.

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  17. This is extremely touching for me - such a perfect remembrance and tribute. And the recurring time theme makes it flow.

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  18. Never know what to expect when I visit here! I reckon with a bit of tweaking, that could be quite a successful country song. How's your voice?

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