This past week, leading up to Mother's Day, I have posted thumbnail sketches of each of my parents, as vehicles of introduction. Today, I have decided to post a short poetic memoir in each of their memories.

 To Mom:

 

STAR

 

 How did you do it?

 

Week after week,

 

keeping a straight face,

 

while observing your

 

undeniably cute and charming,

 

yet, also undeniably

untalented 

and uncoordinated

 

four-year-old,

 

struggle with tap-steps

 

on the polished wood floor

 

of the dance lesson studio?

 

You never let on

 

that I was not

a budding Eleanor Powell,

 

nor that I

was, in fact,

 

as flat on my face,

 

as if I had never

blissfully stood up,

 

following each of my

numerous, toe-tangles,

 

How did you do it?

 

And did I not hear

the thunderous

recital applause,

 

from you and Dad,

 

to the exclusion

of all the rest?

 

What an immensely

difficult gift

 

you both presented

to your little girl.

 

If only for one night,

 

I was a Star!

 

---

 

MULBERRY SMILES

 I need to recapture

that feeling.

 

Sunday mornings

in the park,

 

perched on Daddy’s shoulders,

 

to reach and pluck

handfuls of mulberries.

 

The two of us,

 

gorging ourselves quickly,

 

returning home

 

just in time 

 

for Grandma’s

twelve-course,

 

mid-day dinner,

 

lovingly, slaved-over,

since dawn.

 

What gave us away?

 

Our lack of appetites?

 

Crimson stains,

 

etched across

our lips and fingertips?

 

Secretive, uncontrollable giggles?

 

Perhaps the inevitable

tummy-aches

 

that later, kept

each of us

 

tossing in our beds?

 

It’s anyone’s guess.

 

How today,

 

to possibly recapture 

 

that feeling?