My Mother

March 28, 2008
By Elisabeth Sanford, Beamsville, ZZ

My mother thinks I’m wonderful

My mommy thinks I’m special

My mama thinks I’m beautiful

Even when I come home and we fight

And yell and scream

She loves me

In her eyes I’m precious,

I’m brilliant, I’m a gift

She’s always there for me

To rant, to cry, to hug

Sometimes I think

‘Well she’s got to hate me’

I know when I’m older I’ll realize that

There was actually a reason

For everything she’s done and said

My mama’s been here since the beginning

When I squinted in the bright light of the hospital

And complained loudly that it was too bright

And the doctor’s hands too cold

She just smiled and held me tight

When I clung to her crying

On my first day of school

Begging her to come in with me

She just hugged me and promised me

It would be OK

When I was ten years old

And trying desperately

To convince her that I was fatally ill

She just rolled her eyes and convinced me to go

When I came home

And she asked me where all my friends were

And I gave her that look and wrinkled my nose

And said ‘they have cooties’

And she laughed and I walked away

‘Moms are weird’

When I came home and

Fell to the couch face down

Moaning and complaining

That some guy wouldn’t look at me

The way I wanted him to

In the past, present and future

My mothers going to be there for me

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