Mom, I miss your face,
My refuge of tender love,
Your beautiful soul, your proud heart.
Mom, I miss your singing,
More joyful than the diva,
Playing on the Nordmende radio.
Mom, I miss your scent,
One tiny bottle, Vol de Nuit,
You made it last all your life.
Mom, I miss your smile,
You gave me as my reward,
Each time I finish reading a book.
Mom, I miss your hugs,
Early each morning,
Before walking to school.
Mom, I miss your perseverance,
Me, sick for the hundredth time,
You, the doctor’s daughter,
Kept dragging me back to life.
Mom, I miss you chasing me,
With a sweater in your hand,
As I played soccer on the road,
“Son, you’ll catch cold!”
I miss you taking me to the hospital,
When I stuffed a chickpea up my nose,
Mom, I miss your magic:
One chicken from the backyard,
Dinner for five, next two days.
Third day, your magic turns it into
Rice with little pieces of chicken
For two more dinners,
And after that, the next magic,
A delicious chicken rice soup,
Garnished with parsley,
And a squeeze of lemon,
Both from our backyard.
More magic the day after,
The sweetest chicken-breast pudding, ever.
Mom, I miss you teaching me,
How to set up the bedding,
First day of my boarding school,
You held back your tears,
With your strained smile,
Me, I poured them all out.
Mom, I miss your bag of cookies,
For the road,
When leaving for the airport,
For the last time,
Destined to Canada,
Wishing… hoping… maybe… not sure…
Will I ever hug you again?
Mom, would you please visit
My dreams tonight,
Singing me a lullaby?
Or teach me how,
You aged so gracefully,
In spite of us three stooges?
Can you hear me, Mom?
Is it too much to ask,
For one more dream?
Mom, with your love,
I made it to seventy-one.
Tell me please,
How many more verses,
Must I scribble,
Before I see you again.
I miss you Mom,
I miss you!
My mom and her sisters, May 11, 1928. My mom 9 1/2 years old.
My mom, 91 years old, all her sisters passed.
