A Poem for my Mother

 I wrote this tonight, after talking about my mom.

Mom's Stories

 Mom doesn't remember much, 

I tell her the stories she told me. 

Of Rusty escorting me through the yard

Until her whistle called dog and child home. 

Of parking at my bus stop almost half a mile away 

And walking home in the snowy dark. 

Stories told over supper, of cases and incidents. 

Of what she saw at work that day, in Emergency, 

And the lessons to be learned from them. 

Of the day, she wrapped up against the cold (she hated being cold) 

And unwrapped the layers at work, just to find she'd forgotten her skirt. 

Stories of my childhood and my brother's. 

Of him never crawling on hands and knees 

And being so fast on hands and feet. 

 Of me slow to talk because everyone understood me 

And then only saying 'yep' for what felt like months. 

 I miss my mother's stories. 

So now I tell them to her.