My Angel

The angle said,

Go home and dream

about me tonight.

And let our faded memories come out of you—

Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it’s that simple?

I am sixteen, have a difficult child hood, and lived in all over Carteret county.

I went to school at white oak elementary, but you were already in heaven at this point.

I am of few kids in my past with a mother missing.

I step on the grass of the grave of Swansboro, cross many of stone, and find you located by the oak tree.

There you are, I sit down and write this page:

 

It’s not easy to know what is true for you or me

at sixteen, my age. But, I guess what

I feel and see and hear, mother, I hear you:

hear you, hear me—we two—you, me, talk on this page.

Well, I like to draw, dream, and would like be with you.

I would like to talk to you,  catch up on the past fourteen years and for you to be in my life.

I love you

I guess you not being here makes me NOT the same as the other girls,

Like when you are not there for my first prom or you doing my hair as a child.

So will this page be missing something while I write since I am missing you?

Being me, it will not be vacant.

But I will be

apart of you, mommy.

As I learn from your past

and as you learn from my future

although you are watching down on me—

our love is able more free.

 

This is my page for my amazing mommy.

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