Mama Drove
Annis Cassells, Writers of Kern
He always drove, my dad
It was what the man did
So when Mama said
Shall I drive
And he nodded yes
She shrugged a chill
Slick March morning roads
Urged caution, but she drove
Dropped him at the door
In the nick of time
Because not one minute after
She slid into the rigid seat
Beside him and he nodded yes
When she asked
If the doctor
Was in that morning
His eyes rolled upward
Dad lurched forward
Onto the waiting room floor
Right there while she watched
Right there while she watched
Her life spun out of control.
Over slick March morning roads
Mama followed the ambulance
Her own chest lead-heavy
Mouth dry, Mama waited
Until Doctor Whomever
Broke the news, broke her heart
Purse in hand, eyes clear
Mama rose to leave for home
You can’t drive yourself, M’am.
The hell I can’t.
At the funeral home
Mama’s expression, aloof
She only half-listened
To the hard-sell pitch
Which one do you like?
None. I just happen to need one.
Not until Dad left us
Did we kids recognize
The straightness of her spine
The resilience of her spirit
The rock-steady strength
Mama carried inside
©2019 Annis Cassells