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.”
Until then
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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