To Call My Mother

I keep picking up the phone to call my mother To hear her voice and her laugh, which was terrific. I know she would be chuckling at the latest tweets. Laughing her head off at the ridiculousness of them. And she would be incensed by the murder of an innocent In a street where other police officers stood by doing nothing We would discuss how soon we flipped that off Not wanting to witness a killing on national TV We would discuss the fact that my sister could watch the whole thing Stating how awful it was, and we would ponder how she could do it. We would discuss the weirdness of online school And how ineffective it is, pondering how long to wear our masks. We would discuss and laugh and joke and have fun I would stay on longer than usual, realizing life is shorter than I thought But she traveled home to Heaven in January, Which I do not remember until I pick up the phone.