Happy 102nd, Mom

She lives in her room, my mother,
like millions of Elders in nursing home land.
Her particulars pared down
even before the pandemic,
now she can have no visitors,
no daily daughter’s face or laughter.
Like all in the world, my mother
must make what she can of these times.

Today the wondering child named Marie
who stood in the field with such wide eyes
turns one hundred and two.
Today the girl who dashed about with cousins
when she visited her grandparents’ farm
turns one hundred and two.
The high school student who wrote the play
and proudly saw it performed
in front of Helen Hayes
today completes one hundred and two.
Today, the scared new teacher
standing strong and brave in front of class
turns one hundred and two years old.

Can she the Elder who lives in her room
be the very one who married my Dad?
Who dressed for dancing once a month
for another life we could barely imagine?
Marie Marie, she is the one
who made us roar with laughter at the table.
The one who could always be found
in the basement laundry room
doing endless work for endless children.
And those decades free that followed,
decades partnered and finally unencumbered.
Then more than twenty years without him,
a life alone, a different path
And still she lives, one hundred and two today.

This is the day I wish for my mother,
and all the Elders who live in their rooms,
abundance of remembering
the riches of their lives.
May they know their families’ love
still reverberates their way.
May some small thing make them smile today
May their passage be easy,
easy as a dream.

©Susa Silvermarie 2020