Gone when I was thirteen
On May Day, your day.
Your smiling face and the
Warble in your gentle voice
Still ring in my memory.
Those thick glasses
With brittle seeming wire frames.
My little hand in yours.
Flowers in the many beds of your garden,
Silver dollar plants and orange lanterns
Beside and on the front porch.
Morning Glories climbing the twine and up the back
Of the house, below your kitchen window
Drenched in sunlight.
Violets in the dining room
Fragrance and beautiful color and form
An April violet for me.
The sights and smells of your small enameled kitchen
The flour sifter and kitchen scale
From your father’s bakery on the cabinet
Encrusted with decades of flour and love
Cookies made for family and shut-ins.
The Cookie Lady article yellowed and on the wall
Below the kitchen clock
How proud I was to hear the story
How happy I was to taste the confections myself
Especially at Christmas-time
Saturday night beans and brown bread
At the dining room table
Formal but familial
Staying over with you and Grampa
Sharing Ritz and milk
The wonder of my father’s room
As you showed me the pulley system
He created over his bed
To turn on and off the light suspended from the
Ceiling in the middle of the room.
Bellows by the fireplace
The thick carpet on the stairs
The landings for the toy soldiers
And other creatures we played with
The mystery of the second floor porch and the stairs
To the attic above
The clawed feet of the bathtub
The family pictures on your bureau
The warmth of your love.
How proud I was to be one of your pallbearers
The first and greatest loved one I ever lost.
Back ramrod straight as I sat in my chair
Waiting for the cue to walk beside you one last time
Hearing the loving words from the pulpit
From your minister, your friend.
A moment of peace, of knowing you were loved
And you were with the Lord already.
How I hated Him for taking you
So mad to lose you just as I wanted to know you more
Just as I could have been more
Clumsily, finding my way without you still.
I wished we could have talked about the desk,
Your father’s desk that you gave me
Did you know about the history of this gift?
That it was from that ship?
Did you know why he had it?
I wish I knew more.
Cookie Lady I miss you.
------------------------
Edited November 30, 2013
“Jessie – v3”
(editing original again)
May 12, 2013
Edited for Mother’s Day worship service
“Jessie – v2”
written 5/2/2001, posted to blog 2/12/2004
“Jessie”
&
Pastor Ruth
Foss
sermon blog
meditation blog
Suncook, NH
May 12, 2013
Mother’s Day
All of my
poems and photographs are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002,
2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015,
2016. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for
usage. See all 40,710+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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