I miss Mama
So many things, the usual stuff
Her sense of humor, her stubbornness
And her voice, Lord, I miss her voice
I don't miss her tears, I hated to see her cry
The usual stuff, the stuff everybody misses.
There are other things too
I miss the smell of Mama
Collards cooking at Thanksgiving
And fatback, and onions
The way she smelled when she got dressed up
Red
I miss the phone calls that always started
"What ya doin?"
And the year-long question,
"Have you started your Christmas shopping yet?"
I miss, "Where's Kenny?"
And, "You better leave that baby alone."
I miss the old sayings
The ones she never got right
Dogs with pnumonia…
And words she never could pronounce
Fenimine...and winders
I miss the mornings
"What's the best cup of coffee of the day Mama?"
And always the same answer
"The first cup!"
And all the gossip that came after.
But most of all I miss her name
Not the one everybody else used
Her real name...Mama
Once spoken with such ease and comfort
Now whispered...or avoided all together
I miss Mama
Email this story 
Print Story 
Add to reading list
