Mama

James Bowden

I don’t know what she was wearing the last time I saw her. Not that it matters.
I don’t know if I shall ever see her again. Although I expect it.
What if she doesn’t make it back
Or worse
What if she does but is too far gone
It’s in our genes.

Is it wrong that I only feel bad because I know
That she knows what I was wearing the last time she saw me. That it does matter. To her.
That she doesn’t know if she’ll ever see me again. Although she hopes for it.
And what if she doesn’t make it back?
Or is too far gone
For I know her biggest regret
Would be not having spoken to me that one last time.

Can I not love immaterially, unconditionally? Maybe that’s something we can only do after the fact. Once the
person has been reduced to an idea.
A person is human. I don’t get along with humans.
An idea is whatever you make of it. I know what I’ll choose to make of hers.
But why wait until it’s too late?
I think
I’ll call her now.

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I don’t think I’ve ever called my mom “mama”, but it seemed to convey the right sentiment.