No One Stronger
My mother was widowed at 51.
She sat in a hard doctor’s waiting room chair
And watched while Dad fell forward.
My mother followed the ambulance in her frigid car.
An ER doctor delivered the news
Dad was gone.
My mother clutched her purse, stood to leave for home.
“You can’t drive yourself,” the kindly clerk said.
“The hell I can’t!”
My mother listened to the funeral director’s casket pitch.
“Which one do you like?” he asked when done.
“I don’t like any of them. I just need one.”
None of us knew
The straightness of her spine
The resilience of her spirit
The powerful package that was our mom.
Today's prompt: Strong
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