M is for Mother

Mother_and_child_2No matter how complicated our relationships with our mothers turn out to be–and they are always complicated in some way at some time in our history together, aren’t they, even if we don’t know who our mothers were and are and particularly when we get too invested in our own "rightness"–no matter those complications, without those linkages and lineages and undeniable resemblances, we would have to be lonely forever.

Mother

Mid April already, and the wild plums
bloom at the roadside, a lacy white
against the exuberant, jubilant green
of new grass and the dusty, fading black
of burned out ditches. No leaves, not yet,
only the delicate, star-petaled
blossoms sweet with their timeless perfume.

You have been gone a month today
and have missed three rains and one nightlong
watch for tornadoes. I sat in the cellar
from six to eight while fat spring clouds
went somersaulting, rumbling east. Then it poured,
a storm that walked on legs of lightning,
dragging its shaggy belly over the fields.

The meadowlarks are back, and the finches
are turning from green to gold. Those same
two geese have come to the pond again this year,
honking in over the trees and splashing down.
They never nest, but stay a week or two
then leave.The peonies are up, the red sprouts
burning in circles like birthday candles,
for this is the month of my birth, as you know,
the best month to be born in, thanks to you,
everything ready to burst with living.
There will be no more new flannel nightshirts
sewn on your old black Singer, no birthday card
addressed in a shaky but businesslike hand.
You asked me if I would be sad when it happened

and I am sad. But the iris I moved from your house
now hold in the dusty dry fists of their roots
green knives and forks as if waiting for dinner,
as if spring were a feast. I thank you for that.
Were it not for the way you taught me to look
at the world, to see the life at play in everything,
I would have to be lonely forever.

                                            -Ted Kooser

This was a gift from a dear friend, the one who introduced me to Teddy Kooser recently, with a one line note attached: "happy birthday." One of the best birthday gifts ever. I am standing in the middle of "mother" now in my late 40s, looking at my mother at one end and my daughters at the other. I dearly hope that I have been a good student and will be a good teacher…and I hope I leave none of them lonely, ever.

[art from here]

About Patti Digh

Patti Digh is an author, speaker, and educator who builds learning communities and gets to the heart of difficult topics. Her work over the last three decades has focused on diversity, inclusion, social justice, and living and working mindfully. She has developed diversity strategies and educational programming for major nonprofit and corporate organizations and has been a featured speaker at many national and international conferences.

3 comments to " M is for Mother "
  • Ack! I’m at a wi-fi cafe with tears running down my face. What a gorgeous poem.

  • Joy

    Wow. I lost my mom three years ago to cancer, but her memory and spirit lives on.

    From what you’ve shared so far, I can already tell that you’re an incredible mother and I am sure, a wonderful daughter as well.

  • jylene

    beautiful, beautiful… thanks for sharing this. as you can see, i am woefully behind in reading my email. this poem was a nice start to cleaning out the inbox. i have especially missed reading you.

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