Note: For my mother, on her birthday this Sunday, November 2nd.
That skirt’s too short,
They’ll see through those tights.
Dressed like a Halloween Witch,
You borrow our clothes,
Mine, and my twin’s;
It’s weird to grow older,
I’m such a better parent at 20 than I was at 14.
They say I look just like you now;
But you look just like that seven year old picture of me,
Dressed in the costume you created,
A bold and proud Cat,
Dressed in a black faded leotard,
A few anxiety tears shed, but
Prancing first out the door to her first Halloween school parade.
I’ve outgrown the scrapbook now,
And your hands look older
Than those that pieced it together,
When I was still a child.
We’re past the days
Where I remember how old you are
By the corresponding number,
Of the Cartoon Network local station.
Has anything changed?
I don’t know how to be your friend,
So I don’t try.
It comes naturally anyways,
Like a bizarre self-fulfilling prophecy.
I have your compassion,
(And just like you never let me forget,
The V-shape of my brow,
Is like your mother’s,
Who I barely ever met.)
Please stay until I have grown children,
You had to help me change a broken tire last week,
How will I know how to change diapers,
If I don’t even remember,
To switch over my laundry without your help?
Who else will I turn to when FINALLY,
I get the payback you’ve been promising,
Would come my way,
Since before I could crawl?
I can’t imagine the pain.
I can’t imagine how you look at me
And just the V-shape of my forehead
I can’t imagine what I’d do,
If it were already time to say goodbye.
It may be years ‘til I receive my just desserts,
But please wait ‘til I’ve finished them.
I may not be your mother,
But I am your daughter,
Stay to meet mine.