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.