DEAR MAMA DEBBIE

 

I borrowed a towel from my buddy Alyssa, but

oddly enough it doesn’t smell like her. Somehow

when I dry my face and inhale deep, I’m in your kitchen

with your bright smile so huge I’m worried you’ll tip over

you’re so thin, and walking is difficult but you never stop smiling

somehow hauling that grin around doesn’t take you any extra effort

 

Even then how grateful I was to know you, faintly aware

that someday you’d be gone and I’d be remembering 

your smell or your smile or the screen door swinging open

welcoming me into to my best friend’s home

like it’s my home

like she’s really my sister, like I’m really your daughter

like we’re sitting here remembering my father together

 

We laugh and cry together like I’m doing now

so grateful, so grateful, for every little moment

like how you loved the tuna sandwich from Panera

like how we sat and talked for hours and as we did

I remembered who I was when I was young and didn’t realize

how lucky I was with a whole extra set of parents who loved me too

 

So I’ll never be on another casino floor without thinking about the selfie

we took when we went out in the snowstorm and had a blast

snapped a neon-lit pic and sent it off to your daughter who asked me

if I was being a bad influence on her mother and we just roared

and I’ll never play Jenga without wishing there was alcohol involved

and I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you, and I know

neither time nor space nor death can keep your love from us.