My mom has long been my hero.  Her tireless work ethic, impish sense of humor and Saks’ Fifth Avenue style on a Woolworth budget never cease to inspire.  I wrote this poem for “Toni” years ago, but I share it with moms everywhere.  Thank you for all you do…

Please pass it on to anyone you feel would enjoy…

* * * * * * * *

I remember.

The nose crinkles when I remember the trips to Palisades.
Jumps and leaps and fake swimming in the wave pool
and all the rides.

They never should have closed that park, don’t you think?

In the pool so long till I became a brown face
with a big smile in the middle of it
and ghost white feet on the bottom.

And Bear Mountain.
Rocks and hikes and picnics
and then and then
Saturdays and the bus to Macy’s.
The Magic Store.
They had everything at Macy’s.

And mommy’s pocketbook,
handles draped protectively over her arm.
The snap in the middle
releasing the accordion contraption.
The gloves, the raglan sleeves,
hand folded close to the chest.
The other hand doing its job.
The other hand holds mine, you see.

Half a Hershey bar with almonds
always in the zipper pocket of the magic pocketbook.
God knows what you’d find in there.
Just in case we needed a nosh.
A nosh on the bus.
To a little one dinner seemed lifetimes away.

But where did the other half go?
There was never a whole one
no matter when you looked in there.
It was always half eaten
inviting you to eat the other.

And mommy always has money in the pocketbook.
Mommy must be magic because
she always has money in the pocketbook.
She always takes care of us.
No matter what happens you know you can depend on …
Sundays.

The bike riding.
The pedal pushers.
The funny sunglasses that made me look like a criminal.
We laughed.
I looked like a mafia don at nine.
Taking a picture with me and mommy.
Her smiling.  Posing, naturally.

Don’t forget to pose naturally.

Looking up at her, my tongue sticking out.
Those silly headbands she made me wear
for the hair too thick for modern consumption.
The ridiculous white on white white sneakers
flat flat as flat could be.
Posing for mommy.
Posing for posterity.

Even throwing up was okay when mommy was around. Read the rest of this entry »