Today You Would Be Eighty

After a long enough look at this photograph

Of you at sixteen, sweet and dreamy eyed,

I follow your gaze into a sunrise

That promises wildflowers and breezes,

Backyard games and coloring books--

But the storm rises and the wind swells

The waves swell and rise, and I fall too short.

Caught in the foam, I slip under the curling wave

That would slam me into the unyielding edge of land and sea. 

But there you are on the beach,

Holding your breath and watching--

If I swim too far, what then?--

You watch and wait.  I will swim,

And you will be my mother.  To come back

I would swim under the wave under time

Under every second left in my life

Swim under the hard edge of solid ground

To come up with the spring thaw and daffodils.

Our flower, Mom.

To drill through the ground 

And say we are here again and again

For just a few weeks 

Eternal sunshine, youth, and little girls

Dressed in the pinks and yellows of sweet joy

The promise of namesake goodness

On sandal-footed young Artemis

Loving the bunnies and fawns

The young life that wears winters

Like the memory of a beloved foremother

Who has taught her young to endure.

I was that child.  I am that child.

I will be that child

Swimming with daffodils

Planting marigolds with her father

As a gift to her mother on Mother’s Day

Here is spring.  Summer will come.

Autumn will follow. Crisp and cozy nights

And a mother tucking you in

And winter with Christmas vacation

And a mother telling you go play, honey.

All will be well.

Down to the playroom.

Down to the dark and all your yarn-haired dolls

Made with love by aunts and grandmothers

The love in the dolls and in the loving of dolls

A lesson to Artemis.

Mom, every thought of you takes me home

To the place you made for a little girl who shares your name.

Sunshine flows freely from the tap of memory

As this little girl dances in the grass.

I stop.  I go on.  This is all I have.