Mom,
I love you.
When I was holed up in my room,
Silently dying inside,
You were the one that noticed the
Vacant expression on my face;
You were the one that coaxed me
Outside because you knew how badly
I wanted to feel the sun,
Its warmth, and to simply lay
In the grass under the dogwood tree
Again, the sun's rays
Making my vision go red
While I stare through my closed
Eyes, to be able to feel s o m e t h i n g
For a while.
You were the one offering to
Help with homework when you noticed
My grades dropping to F's and D's,
Even though you barely understood
The material.
You would leave bright orange Post-Its with
Reminders like
"Remember to drink water, you need it" and
"Take a nap, you've earned it" and
"I made your favorite sandwich, you deserve it."
Peanut butter and honey with banana slices-
Our favorite.
I never told you how much I
Loved those Post-Its;
Sometimes the sloppy semi-cursive handwriting
On the blindingly orange paper and
Its loving message were the only
Things keeping me
Going.
You were the only
Thing keeping me
Going.
Your taste in music
Isn't actually that bad.
Some of my fondest memories are
Of you half-singing, half-yelling the lyrics to
"We Will Rock You", your disgustingly contagious
Enthusiasm convincing me to half-sing, half-yell
With you,
While we drove along the highway
At 60 miles an hour.
Sure,
you're almost exclusively into
Queen and Earth, Wind, and Fire,
But I'd jam to "Radio Gaga"
Anytime- as long as you're there
To sing off-pitch with me,
Dancing our way through
Our list of chores,
Watching the music video to
"Take on Me" while
Racing to finish folding the laundry.
And, when the upbeat music
Stops, and it was time for
Little me to sleep,
You would sit by my bedside, and
Lull me off to sleep with
Your take on "You Are My Sunshine", with
Me humming along until I
Drifted into the realm of
Dreams.
I'm listening to your lullaby loop
Over and over and o v e r
In my mind as I
Write this, but the
Temptation of staying to
Listen to your
Heart-wrenching melody just
One more time. . . I can't.
Mom,
I made our favorite sandwich.
Mom,
I love you.
Mom?
Goodbye.
I'm auditioning for a slam poetry contest at my high school, and I have to compose three original slam poems, so here's the first one, which takes up three pages in my notebook.
