my identity through my kids

get-together at mjMG last night

for an early Thanksgiving dinner

my brother and sister-in-law joined me

we met a few new people

and a lady who looked so familiar

but i couldn’t place her

until she asked if i were the mother

of the woman who plays with

Bells of the Cascades

so, even now, these many years later

i am best known as the mother

of my wonderful kids

longed for

so far away

but still belonging

wanted, longed for

bringing with a hug

an inundation of joyful tears

so many help

some friends help so far

beyond my expectations

seeing a need before i express it

and quietly filling in gaps

i would have stumbled over

i am so blessed with family

and insightful friends

daughter, mother

over  lunch at filbert’s farm kitchen

laughter and pleas for ancestor stories

catching up on the kids’ activities

comparing perspectives on family

gatherings and the tales emerging

from them, more laughter

and moments of tender grief

daughter, mother share the joy

and pain of loving deeply

a mother’s pride

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gift of courage

awakening in fear

not of the test itself

but of its implications

awakening to find

a joyous card from my daughter

professing love i know to be

her daily gift to me

despite the years of pain

she has endured

i will borrow

a bit of her courage and take

the test and its results

as they are

helping heal

so young to contend

with a disease that is robbing

her of sight

and now beloved father’s fight

with cancer lost

holidays have only so much magic

that moments beside Pacific’s turbulent surf enhance

but nothing yet

can heal the wounds

off on their own

how better to tell them

they are loved

than to meet them for lunch

near the airport before they depart

hugs and laughter over a hot meal

joyous with happy memories shared

to send them off again

to their own full world

knowing all the family is behind them

this i’ve gotta see

his roommates know little reason

to go home for the holidays

they listen, unconvinced, to stories

of his family gathering in laughter

or huddling close in times of ache

or pain or tears, being there to help

in ways he had not yet realized

he needed them

he may well have one or two

with him next celebration time

both daughters

both daughters strong for their families

both aching within for painful losses

but laughing together, scheming fun

in travel plans to fulfill a longing

of many years never realized

until now when they will decide

to make what is yearned for happen

whatever the cost to themselves

to give healing to those they love

“You forgot me”

hiking in the woods as family

father tried to swing

his toddler daughter up

around a steep, muddy spot

but hands slipped apart

she tumbled unhurt to the bottom

whimpering, “You forgot me”

portend of his leaving without

recognition of her later attempts

at reconciliation

generations hug

little red-headed boy fighting tears

hobbling grandmother comforts

“Do you know what I like most?”

“Uh-uh,” he sniffles

“Freckles. Isn’t that what they

were teasing you about?”

slow smile in response

“Do you know what I like most?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Wrinkles.”

if not through, then beside

weeping for my family

i cannot protect

i can no longer ‘kiss better’

sobbing for the pain and fear

i cannot absorb for them

knowing, remembering my own

longing to keep them from that harm

even understanding their strength

and that they must go through it alone

i can only stand beside or behind them

her daughter wants her to stay

 her hopes for the small home

she wished to buy where she’d

spent decades among friends

dashed by the inspector’s report

so many things needing repair

she could have returned to doing

but not in that run-down house

she’s made friends where she now lives

her daughter, who worked front desk

is now retired but wants her to stay

since she is only fifteen minutes away

yet the writing group is now lead

by someone who reads the work

of the vision-impaired with less

than empathy and understanding

rather than greater independence

she faces slow descent to blindness

and dependency                           

laughter and good food

sharp clang of spatula

flare of flame and bad chef jokes

Benihana set with full table

of family loving their mom

on her 30th time celebrating

her 29th birthday

still beside

a week together on the Rhine

and the family still loves each other

it must be the fascinating

juxtapositions of very old beside

so new in towns, many begun

as outlying Roman settlements

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chat over pear, hazelnut and gorgonzola salad

lunch overlooking the golf course

with beloved daughter and

creative son-in-law

always fun to be with

talking about family and boat-ramming

killer whales and wild bison unhappy

with people which reminds me

of how i feel about drivers who cut

me off in traffic

i leave for home feeling cherished

aj’s haven

a warm home

welcoming grown children

and extended family

to potluck and skilled baker’s pies

chatter, love and laughter

and our lady, newly happy

one payment, two rewards

 aching to help my independent offspring

whose pride of self and generous spirit

i would not hurt for any gain

and now i can assist by spending

what i would have at any rate

but applying it to a cost she could not pay

empty nest echoes

atop of utility pole is the empty osprey

nest of rugged, twisted branches

my offspring, too, have flown on to their own lives

but i have kept my home so filled

with the echoes of their laughter, questions and insights

a place of growth and deepening understanding

love and acceptance

                                    mjNordgren  9/28/2022  N