Every Day is Mother's Day

What I Learned from My Mother Mother

I learned from my mother how to love
without conditions, to have plenty of patience
and origami paper nearby in case you need
a ritual to sooth your quavering heart and hands.
I learned how to be, how to save magazines
to dissect when folding isn't enough, how to read
myself into comfort because the library doors are always open,
even when all the others have been slammed in your face.
I learned how to breathe in empathy, instead of waiting for
my turn to speak. I learned how to listen, even to strangers,
but discovered attending to those you know best is much harder,
and how to press their moist eyes to your shoulder and offer
what words never can. Like a seamstress or scientist,
I learned how to notice and respect details and offer them up
when another's suffering surpassed my own usefulness
because humans love hearing what makes them unique,
and once you know how to do this, you can't stop yourself
from stirring her creamer into her coffee just so, sandwiching
a cat between your two beating hearts, or writing her this poem.

Inspired by Tacey Hadley, heartache, and "What I Learned From My Mother" by Julia Kasdorf