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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The other day, I saw my mother sitting in a chair. She was staring at the TV, but she knew that I was there. The television was not on; it had been off all day. I don't know what she thinks when she looks at the set this way. A quart of milk was on the carpet; all of it was spilled. I did not see a glass and maybe no glass had been filled. The edges of the milk were firm. They'd taken time to set. It didn't seem to interest Mom to clean it up just yet. She had not glanced my way, so I spoke first. She made it clear that she'd prefer it if I stayed away, although she called me dear. She's hostile when she's like this, but she loves me very much. Still, this was not the time to talk. I said I'd be in touch. The other day, I saw my mother sitting in a chair. She looked down at the floor, but seemed to like my presence there. She rambled on – she always does - then asked me if I wouldn't mind it if I signed a check for her. It always puts me in a bind whenever these things happen, but at least we could converse, and I didn't have to rummage through the contents of her purse. The other day, I saw my mother sitting in a chair. She chattered - all that endless monotone, completely unaware that I was drifting out the door because I needed space. I’ll return when you have something real I can embrace. The other day, I saw my mother sitting in a chair. We watched the TV, and there were good programs on the air. She likes sports and politics and follows the election. She doesn't think the country is off in the right direction. I enjoyed our talk. She has a very good, sharp wit. I said I'd visit soon, and on my calendar, I marked it. The other day, I saw my mother sitting in a chair - not on that date, but I had phoned before I'd driven there. The phone had not been answered and I knew what had been brewing. I went anyway so I could see how she was doing. Now we resume our Maypole dance one way around the pole. A dance the other way would unwind patterns in her soul.
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