Every Sunday at 1 o'clock my mother calls me
on my landline, she leaves the same message
if I don't pick-up, she doesn't call my cell
ever.
She calls to chat about her week
on speakerphone while my stepfather listens
occasionally making comments
frequently making faces
I'm sure.
It has been 10 years since they visited
my home, although we live in the same state
we are far enough apart
to blame inconvenience on transportation
and time
She speaks at me about the small town
I grew up in, the weather, the roads and wildlife;
Breaking News from Monday she shares and
sometimes she even sends me links, in the mail box
(newspaper clippings) that smell of cigarettes
She'll rave about the wine I can never drink,
she melts over the meal Mike made for her,
decadent and deathly to me,
insisting I am missing out
by being this way
She'll brag about her co-workers adult children,
everyone else's kids with a 9-5, who are
making a good living, while I am wasting my little life
My mother had only one child
and I was too much, she let her parents
do the parenting. She did this for me-
apparently this was better
for my future, sighting the hind
As my mothers' only child, the lineage is certain-
there is a 100% chance of never being good enough.
When my mother and stepfather became grandparents (twice)
I thought (once) they would become Grand Parents, instead
they adopted their neighbors' son, they go to his birthday
parties and soccer games, but couldn't make it for my sons
high school graduation.
When my grandparents died, I thought she'd be there for me,
but I knew, I was already too far away.
When my grandparents passed away, I knew she'd need me
and I went home right away.
After 520 Sundays, you'd think I'd find something better to do.
Every Sunday at 1 o'clock my mother calls me
a disappointment
Someday I should stop making
these appointments
and live a little (life)...
Although I know when I get home
her message will be waiting
past 1 o'clock
Next Sunday
for someone else
whose number she now has.
Image of painting by By Vladimir Makovsky, Mother and daughter c. 1886[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
