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A Mother's SighThe carpet is matted and brown The pile worn where 17 years Of children's feet Have left their indelible mark. Remnants of dinner Lay spread on the dining table A noodle mashed into the wood, Sauce crusting on dulling tines. She stands in her sweat pants, Hair drawn back into a messy knot- A broken pencil from a dusty bin Doubles as a hair stick. An oversized T-shirt Hugs her woman's hips Riding up as she bends forward To begin the winter of the evening ritual Table-scrape-sink Wash-dry-sweep Table-scrape-sink Wash-dry-sweep As she cleans she sees her picture, Fresh and in her 20's- Pounds lighter, skin tighter, Hair thicker, eyes brighter, Smiling for the camera (And the man behind it). Imposed upon the memory She sees her own reflection, Counts another hair of grey Another crease upon her brow And sighs the sigh all mother's know That asks, “Where did that woman go?” A sense of loss engulfs her- Loss of youth Loss of time Loss of possibility She wonders How she got from there to here, And, dishcloth in hand, Is quite certain life has passed her by. She wipes the noodle from the table, Scrubs the crusted sauce from dulling tines Until they shine All the while certain That there has to be more. When, from the corner of her eye, She spots her daughter In the customary teen position- Head tilted to one shoulder With a cordless as a pillow, Polished fingers fly across The lap top keys As she handles, with expertise And animation, A three-way call and Simultaneous Instant Messaging. Hair-a skein of liquid night, Softly frame a face Of almond coffee-colored eyes Fringed by lashes, long and lush, That almost touch The winged arches of her brows. For a moment Her laughter fills the air Floats across the room For Mom to hear… Brother marches toward the noise To make the inquiry, “Why do you talk so much” And Sister waves him out Instructing him to get a life …And put on a shirt An offended elf with thick, chocolate hair, Sun-kissed skin and rosy cheeks Sulks from the room. “Horror of Horrors,” He calls over his shoulder. He leaps onto the sofa, Folds his arm across his child chest Sucks in his cheeks and starts to scratch… “Look, Mommy! I'm a monkey… eek, eek, eek!” Then suddenly he morphs, Jumps into the air Wraps his arms around his legs And bounces on his bottom “Now I'm a buzzing bee! I'm stinging the couch! Buzz, buzz, buzz.” Mother carries on her dreary chore, Smiles to herself Because she knows She has everything she needs… Just this… Nothing more. © August 29, 2004 Kalikolehua Orian Vote for this poem
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