Through blowing snow and hail in the Midwest
And give her a taste, literally, of fresh snow in abundance.
Now it’s time for goodbyes again
As all the goodbyes I’ve said since 17,
So she snaps a picture of me scraping ice, as a souvenir!
She must be thinking:
Look at my middle-aged firstborn
Who never complained about making the beds
And keeping the family bedroom neat
When her tiny hands could hardly hold a broom
When her short arms could hardly reach the stove
When her tiny frame could hardly carry her little siblings
Not that there was no help or nannies,
But she had to be self-reliant, self-sufficient, don’t you think?
For she was not a princess, never born as one.
Never to be one!
For look at her!
Not a pretty girl with skin that was fair,
With crooked teeth that better stayed hidden.
She had to be independent and learn to live
With or without a man who might even leave like a thief!
Indeed, this girl has learned to fend for herself since 17,
Thanks to her trainer-mother, the Commander-in-Chief!
Able to paint a house and a tanker trailer,
Change oil or tires if she had to
And take herself across continents,
Battling language and cultural barriers
Surviving racism and discrimination
As much as winters that were dark and long,
And Mount Pinatubo’s eruption,
Hails and rainstorms, floods and earthquakes,
All by herself, her angels, and the prayers she’d made.
As God has planned…
MLJ/March2019
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