Fresh Peach Pie
April 3 2023
My mother liked to stop
at roadside stands
for sweet corn and fresh peach pie,
buy kitschy little things
in Podunk towns
to remember by.
She took delight
in keepsakes and souvenirs,
”antiques”
that were no such thing.
Loved small talk and fireworks,
sent postcards
to distant friends
just to say hi.
While dad clenched the wheel
staring straight ahead.
He did not believe
in whimsy
or serendipity,
but destinations
and making time.
An itinerary
you stuck with,
a good price for gas.
While we were crammed into the back
on summer vacation,
before air conditioning
and jousting for space.
Me, the youngest of three
sulking in the middle,
hot vinyl
that didn't breathe
clammy with sweat.
So how fitting
that she outlasted him,
all in good time time
instead of his rush.
But now, all that stuff
in their cluttered apartment,
the many mementos
to remember by.
We need to do something with
now that she's gone.
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