Mother’s Day

This is for my mom.  It’s funny, and go ahead and laugh, but when i am feeling down, or am sick (like this weekend, meh) i always want to talk to my mom.  She doesn’t use flowery words to comfort me, and there is absolutely no tut-tutting and oh-you-poor-thing-ing.  All of you who know Crisler will know that she has a wide and varied repertoire of responses along the line of, ‘suck it up, kid.’  This tart advice is always followed with a cup of tea and a discussion of gardening and books, and I come away with the strength to continue.

Then there are the times when she begins, “Well…”  The silence stretches, and i realize that even she is a little overwhelmed.  But she never tells me I’m going to be fine.  She just tells me to quit whining, go in fighting, and never give up.

This poem is for you, mom.  I love you so much!!

Mother to Son


Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

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