Musings by The Poet Loriet

Why, Mommy?

Why, Mommy?
 
A few short days ago,
on an ordinary evening,
my husband went to
putz around at
our local hardware store.
 
He returned, hours later,
pale and shaken,
with somber news--
Rescue vehicles
surrounded the home
of my daughter's best friend.
 
He silently came in,
clicked off Cartoon Network,
took Morgan's hands in his,
and looked into her eyes...
"Honey, Michielie was
hit by a car while
riding her bike."
 
I hated the sobs
that caught in her throat
and fought my own
as I dared to ask
in a small voice,
"Is she okay?"
 
Thank God, yes,
she was...
just bruised, scraped,
bleeding, scared...
but he talked to her,
smoothed her hair,
held her hands,
calmed her family.
 
He said, "Morgan,
I felt like I was sent
in your place,
so she would feel  
your presence"...
He whispered to me,
"I felt like I was
watching my own child
lying in the street."
 
After all the "Why Mommy"s
that filled our quiet evening
just served to remind me
of how short life is,
how precious the moments
and how very quickly
the hands of fate
can toss you
helter-skelter...
 
It only takes a moment
to create another
 
"Why, Mommy?"
 
 


Lori Beal


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Why, Mommy?

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