Sunday, May 13, 2012

My Mother’s Day


On Mothers’ Day I remember a wee girl who grew up during tough times and wanted more for her kids than they could likely imagine as youngsters.

[Edith J., between a very tall friend and R. Palmer, Norwich; circa 1934]

The following piece of prose was written three years ago for Edith Jane Harrison (born May 10, 1923; passed away Sunday morning, Nov. 26, 2000), the wee girl who became my mother.

thin times in a small town

where did she find
the money, that young mother
of mine, for the brand new
red CCM bicycle for
my birthday?

my brother and three sisters
never thought or felt
our family was poor.
but we knew -
if we wanted something -
we had better be prepared
to work for it.

God, what a good lesson
to learn as a young boy.

My dad had me try
one or two used bikes one day.
Tim Body’s didn’t fit me well
and it was hard to pedal.
I would have worked hard
for something better.

But, on my birthday,
after opening a few presents,
my mother told me
I wasn’t done yet
and said I should look
behind a tall bookcase
that hid the front door
from where I stood.

I did look,
and quite unexpectedly,
fell in love with
my new red bike.

***

I lovingly tip my hat to a girl whose father died young, who never had her own new red bike.

.


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