Today my mother’s voice seemed tired, 64 and still working, insurance and bills Don’t wait for anyone Night in and day out, the hospital she’s at Ran out of masks, again, and she is scared She tells me my dad is OK No virus, yet, but 28 residents in his nursing home have died, and she is scared She says she misses her grandkids, All 7 of them, that she wants to hug them And kiss them and give them candy and gifts But they may be a carrier, and so she is scared. She asks me how I’m doing, one state away And I tell her I’m fine, we are at home, safe Yet she is still scared. I tell her to remember all the days we had When she didn’t know if we’d make it To the end of the week with the little she made Or to remember how she’d pull off an entire Filling meal with only 3 ingredients I remind her of the time her father passed away A few months before my wedding and how she Smiled throughout, her strength showing, Despite how she missed him at that moment I tell her so many things about growing up About how she inspires me, about her love and compassion About my children and their success and failures and even about the weather And about the future and about everything in between I say so much, except the one thing I needed to say Because I know it will break her down in tears And I am so far away and can’t offer her a hug, No one can. And because it can’t be true, not now and not for a while. I want to say, “Mom, I’m here for you”.
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