Ode to My Mother
Picking the jar of Skippy Super Chunk from the back of the shelf, forsaking all others while feeling sorry, my mother’s fingers searching for the Chosen One She taught me to be selective—out of a tradition of paranoia, but still…it was something; a skill She was my mother; mom Squealing to “Pay attention not to squish him!”, she raced to find her finest empty Parkay (…butter) container, since all lives mattered—lesson learned sooner, not later She helped me be empathetic—for empathy’s s...
