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Lunch with Mom
by
Ruth Gooley


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Lunch crumbed the kitchen table,
drops of melted cheese and pickle ends, 
apple cores and soda cans,
the LA Times piled on a chair,
the puzzle partially filled in.
She asked about school,
work, my parakeet,
my car.
Good, good, I replied, in our way.
Everything
good.
 
She reached out then
and touched my hair
Your hair is so shiny,
she murmured, pale blue eyes
rimmed with thick glasses,
uncertain as a wild-caught ghost.
      
I leaned into the ache
of her touch,
silent, wanting
to press that moment
into the album of my memory,
but asking instead
if she needed help
with the crossword puzzle.
 
© by Ruth Gooley.
Used with the author’s permission.
Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Ruth Gooley, a native of Venice, California, published her dissertation, "The Image of the Kiss in French Renaissance Poetry," and has published poems in many journals. She lives with her husband of 23 years, six lovebirds, and six canaries. Ruth has taught French and ESL and currently works in a library. She loves to hike and walk on the beach.


Post New Comment:
DonnaLeaf:
This brings back memories of your mother and mine - two fine ladies we were blessed to have loved and been loved by.
Posted 11/15/2014 02:55 PM
marenomitchell:
Brings aches and tears, for both of my parents.
Posted 05/10/2012 06:00 PM
wendy morton:
so much to press into the album of our memories.
Posted 05/08/2012 10:49 AM
Joe Sottile:
Beautiful, and sad, just like life itself! Bravo!
Posted 05/08/2012 10:35 AM
KevinArnold:
Brevity can be so powerful.
Posted 05/08/2012 09:45 AM
Jean Colonomos:
What a lovely remembrance. Thank you.
Posted 05/08/2012 09:27 AM
Jean Colonomos:

Posted 05/08/2012 09:26 AM
peninsulapoet:
Perfect.
Posted 05/08/2012 08:37 AM
dotief@comcast.net:
Absolutely and painfully beautiful!
Posted 05/08/2012 08:12 AM
CamilleBalla:
"I lean into the ache of her touch" says so much; touching. Thanks.
Posted 05/08/2012 07:40 AM
mimi:
reading your poem, I'm there with my own little mother, saying and doing the same things...right down to the unfinished crossword puzzle...deeply touching and beautiful poem, thanks...
Posted 05/08/2012 07:34 AM
Rob:
The important "unsaid" is often hidden behind the seemingly trivial "said," isn't it? Beautiful portrayal of that!
Posted 05/08/2012 07:06 AM
John:
A memorable and fixing line: "uncertain as a wild-caught ghost."
Posted 05/08/2012 07:00 AM
tannerlynne:
Oh thank you for this lovely poem. I remember leaning into the ache of her touch though it be sixty years ago.
Posted 05/08/2012 06:57 AM
Janet Leahy:
A tender poem, brings so many memories to mind, "lean into the ache of her touch," lovely. thanks, Ruth
Posted 05/08/2012 06:55 AM


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