My Mother: Edition 1

My Mother.

How good does it feel,

and how lucky am I

to be able to say that about you

When I was 18

You gifted me with many things,

how lucky was I

But one thing I never forgot

Was the poem

Your poem was pages

Upon pages

Of every part of me you have known

And how lucky am I

to have you

to know me

and to write about me

I lost this poem

I hope you have a copy

It may not be lost, it may just be at home

I hope it is

it was on my wall, pinned there for years

Sun drenched in all its glory

of being the best present

I have ever received

There is no occasion for this poem

like there was for mine

but why on Earth

Should I wait for an occasion

to write one back to you?

I should not, and so I won't

My mother,

Mum

The name I accidentally type into Facebook

every time I try to message you

The only person I will ever want when I'm ill

The person that can make anywhere feel like home

I think, that even if we were homeless

sitting beneath a building

it would still feel like home.

There would be blankets, and pillows

and somehow, you would probably come up with

a way to fashion a meal, out of nothing

Which brings me to your food

it would be strange not to mention it

or to not mention that

I miss it so much

The sandwiches you made in school

still go down in history

Sunday dinners,

are the next closest thing to feeling home

after you

We are not an affectionate family

and I apologize for that

maybe this poem

can be a lifetime worth of thankfulness?

You are incredible

and self-less

and beautiful

and wonderful

So many of my favourite memories are with you

At horse shows,

eating filled pasta

Having a flat tire in Danniverke,

and getting fried chicken from the four-square

Shopping trips,

where we both spend too much money

and too much time thinking about lunch

Holidays

where you get burnt, no matter where we are, or how much sunscreen you have on

and you plan dinner before you even wake up

Your advice

is always empowering

and never discouraging

you always want me to do what's best for myself

and to challenge anything

or anyone I don't believe in

and so I will, and I do

because of you

This poem could go on forever

but it won't

maybe one day, I will have enough time

enough paper and enough pens

to write down how wonderful you are

but I hope this is a good start

on a person's who's greatness

goes beyond the realms of mere words

So,

let me finish this first edition

of a poem for my mum

by saying

You are the best mum

in so many ways

but the absolute best part of you

is that you are mine

how lucky am I?

to get to say that

for eternity