The List of My Annoyances

The way I get ham on the weeks you don’t like it

and don’t have any in the frig on the weeks you do.

That I make the completely wrong dinner.

Or the just nearly wrong dinner.

Also the not quite perfect dinner.

Sometimes even the starts-out-as-perfect-

but-ends-up-otherwise dinner.

That I always side with your sister (except when I don’t).

(Which is never, except when I’m wrong.)

That I write poetry.

That I read it aloud.

That I practice in the house.

That I notice your report card says

you write wonderful poetry.

That I love you.

That I tell you so.

That I make you stop in the hallway so I can hug you.

That I kiss the bleached crown of your head.

That I notice you melt just slightly,

in an awkward-13-year-old-boy way,

when I wrap my arms around you.

That wordlessly I remind you

I will always be your mother,

your completely wrong mother,

your nearly wrong mother,

your not quite perfect mother,

your starts-out-as-perfect-but-ends-up-otherwise mother.

(cc) Karen G. Johnston