Mothers make this world a better place. They instill a gentleness in each of us. What we do with it is another story. My mom died when I was 10 years old, but her influence has continued with me 25 years after her early exit. More often than you would think, I run into people who knew my mom well. I have instant credibility when they find out that I am Jenny Marie Edgar's son. I used to think that, as with all people who die, her virtues were being magnified by her those who knew her. But now I am convinced that I was wrong about that. I think she was as absolutely wonderful as everyone describes her. I certainly have no bad memories of her - but then my heart would break for any young boy who has bad memories of his mother. She is frozen in my memory as a loving, patient, funny, poetic, artistic, strong, gentle woman who knew she had flaws and acknowledged them and dealt with them as best she could while continuing to lift others up. When I meet others that knew her, they confirm my memories and each adds a little detail to my angelic mom. I cherish the short time that I had with her.
My little kids have it pretty good too. Everything their mom does is for them. After our little chug, Cruise, was born, I woke up one early morning and saw Sara rocking him in our rocking chair in the corner of our room. It was a quiet moment. She had put her life on the line for him and now she was holding him, comforting his little heart and keeping him warm. Yes, mothers make this world a better place indeed. In the end, sometimes a mother's love is all we have.Forward and back
The rocking chair rocks
Gently forward and back.
It's peaceful and still
In the quiet air
Save for the motion of
The rocking chair
A mother sits in the rocking chair
Her head hung down - but not low -
Her hair falling on her shoulders
In the early morning
After a late night
Rocking her baby
In the dim lamp light
Her fingers tenderly trace
Her little boy's ear
And her lips touch his little face
As she quietly hums
With a calm, quiet breath
While she cuddles him close
While she keeps him warm.
The room is dark and quiet
Except for the lamp
And the mother by it,
As she hums to her baby
While forward and back
Her rocking chair rocks
Gently forward and back.
Terrific post and what a great poem. Glad you're posting these now, you have a great talent.
ReplyDeleteI appreciate your words about moms. Mine died when I was 32 and even though I had much more time that you did, there is still a void. Good thing is you still have your dad, make the most of it while you do :-)