Tuesday, February 18, 2014

I went to the altar of poetry, lit up with love.

Last night, as I drove to my weekly open-mic (as close to a notion of "church" as I'll get), my headlights lit the road brightly before me, and yet there was a less discernible glow coming from mysef as well.

I'd asked one of my sons if he'd replace a burned-out headlight bulb, and he not only did it, but taught my other son ( who is not quite the handy-man type) how to do it as well. And that made me beam, a bit, the notion of my path being lit by a collaboration of my sons.

And yes, the poet in me wants to haul out all the metaphors for a mother lighting the way for her children, but I'll refrain. Yes, as mothers we do that, instinctually. Not necessarily as instinctual for one's offspring to pay back the favor. Hoped for, yes, but not expected.

It was a small thing, but made all the more meaningful upon my return, close to midnight, driving the mostly-unlit lake route back to my house.

So lucky to have two sons!


  1. I think I had the same feelings when I realised that my two oldest (the third was still too young) both had a superbly honed sense of humour. I felt as if I must have done something right!

    1. Nice, Cro! (Perhaps they both take after their father?)

  2. I've been a better daughter as time has gone by. I help more, give back more, have more patience. I think the 'rents really appreciate it. Hell, I know they do.

  3. Such a sweet post. Makes me smile.
    Now go write the poem, Mary! :)

  4. This post made me smile and think forward of my own two!