She was washing dishes,
Putting things away,
Glad for a little quiet after the fray,
Hospital bills would be coming,
Juggling bills to pay,
But she was glad for the quiet today.

Sam came in with dirt on his face
From playing "trucks" on the drive,
And trailing a gritty wet trail
For a cookie or two and some milk with his Mom.

She milk-dunked an Oreo
Looked at her son, and said,
"What shall we do for today?"
To the  milk-mustached boy
Who'd barely made it to five.

"How 'bout checkers?" he asked,
And she looked hard at him,
"Where did you learn how to play?"

"At the doctor's," he said,
As he dipped cookies in,
And startled his mother again.

"Honey, who taught you to play?"

"Max and I played. He showed me how,"
He said with a straight, serious face
As she spilled the milk from her glass.

"Honey, Max has been gone for two years!"

"I know, Mom, and now he is six, and not three.
In heaven, you get to decide.
And Grampa and Gramma came up to say hi,
And numbers were swirling around."

She paused, now uncertain, and mopping up milk,
"So did you see Jesus?" she said.

"Yup, Jesus was there. He said I could visit,
but I had to go back," Sam looked at her matter of fact.
"Can I go play now?" And outside he went,
Brown smudges still stuck on his chin.