Cleaning out my mother\u2019s townhome
\nassisted living came grudgingly \u2013
\nterminology I use on charitable days
\ncleaning out the tidy home of a
\ncertified and fully anointed packrat
\nwas less time-capsule discovery
\nmore bafflement at later-in-life finds<\/p>\n
At the far end of her walk-in closet
\nhung two garment bags I recognized –
\nher circa 1951 Naval WAVE uniform
\nnext to her wedding dress from 1958
\nhappy marriage begat only child me
\nalways petite, my mom took pride
\nbragging each still comfortably fit<\/p>\n
A point she routinely emphasized
\nat every doctor visit, telling each nurse
\nthat weighed her \u2013 with pride,
\nnoticeable annoyance \u2013 the only time
\nshe weighed more than 100 pounds
\n\u201cWas when I was pregnant with HIM!\u201d
\nhumorous verdict with an edge<\/p>\n
Most of her clothing I worthily donated
\nthough the garment bags I kept
\nNow in memory care, my mother will
\nonly occasionally mention those days
\nit is probably time to return them to
\nher closet, to the far end, door open
\nso she can see them hanging there . . .<\/p>\n
Maybe she\u2019ll remember a time \u2013 the
\nonly time \u2013 they just wouldn\u2019t fit <\/p>\n