Mom Was There

This kid loved to run,

but gravel and asphalt were not kind,

and I went down often.

Bloodied knees, scuffed chin, and injured hands

were left to Band-aids to cover,

while  for my spirit

Mom was there.

Dressed in adult armor,

my tuxedo jacket as white as my face,

I all but crushed the corsage box in anxiety,

preparing to meet her parents.

Out with our car and the girl together

for an eternity of trying to say the right thing.

I knew however prom would go,

coming home, all ears to my adventure,

Mom was there.

That first day of school,

oh, not that earlier one where

memory had graciously slipped away,

but this was college, away from home alone.

More than just a school transition,

this was a “no going back” dive

into life in a big new pond,

a frightening ‘gigantor’ where my only reassurance was

Mom was there

Mid thirties arrived

with conviction and shaky resolve

that my most-loved needed telling

there would never be grandchildren.

I sat her down in front of me

and, with core deep fear and sweating hands, my words spilled out

“I am gay.”

With  unwavering acceptance and love,

Mom was there

I hovered bedside

at the nursing home,

she speechless due to stroke,

her hand relaxed and released mine,

and, just like that

Mom wasn’t there.

Mom