For My Mom

Recently I moved my mom in with my wife, daughter and I.

I couldn’t be both happier and more wrong so I’m writing this piece,

In short—

Long days of back and forth mostly forcing arguments in place of conversation I really needed.

Ignoring warnings I should have heeded but it could be simply either her fault,

Or needed… I had no other parent to blame.

And I did in exchange for the feeling like things, were settled—

For me. But her feelings had remained, her brain scattered so the only thing shattered was her dreams

While glass ceilings remained an obstacle.

And here goes the strange—

My dad sucked so bad, my mom became,

A vacuum. Cleaning up every mess… he left…

She made it hers to fix

So every broken hinge meant forgoing closure for comfort.

Something you don’t really notice until that warmth is gone.