M@rjolein blogging……

Generations
The way I walk
I see my mother walking
My feet secure
and firm upon the ground
The way I walk
I hear my daughter talking,
And hear my mother’s echo
in the sound.
The way she thought
I find myself now thinking,
The generations linking
In a firm continuum of mind.
The bridge of immortality
I’m walking -
The voice before me echoing behind.

Mommy
Mommy. I catch my breath.
It is so unexpected.
Suddenly to hear that word.
Again. Not Mom or Mother.
Mommy. Not in the reedy, piping
Voice of yesterdayy, but a voice
Surprisingly like my own.

Everyday words stream
Between us.
Glancing at her face,
I see she doesn’t realize she’s said it.
And so I will not embarrass her.
I will merely
Enjoy it.

At…
1 year - Mama.
4 years - I want my Momma
7 years - I need to ask my Mommy first.
12 years - My Mother is so uncool.
17 years - Naturally, Mother doesn’t understand.
21 years - Mom is so out of touch - What would you expect?
30 years - Maybe Mom will have a good idea.
35 years - I’ll call Mom and see what she thinks about it. Mom is really a lot of help.
40 years - Maybe Mom and I could do that together.
50 years - I wonder what Mom would have thought about it.
60 years - I wish once more I could talk it over with Mom.

• The mother’s heart is the child’s schoolroom.
• Yours were the first eyet I looked into.
  Yours were the first arms to hold me tight.
  You were the first to show me never-ending love and compassion.
  Forever… your are my mother
  And I am blessed.
  E.K. Mitchell